Away Isn't Far Enough
by danagabrielle
Summary: After s3. -BB- Brennan can't deal with her attraction to Booth any longer. Angela doesn't help and Sweets makes it worse. She runs to London to get away, but Booth follows. CHAPTER 14 IS RATED M.
1. Everything is Logic Except This

**A.N.:** **Here's my first attempt at some BB fanfiction. (I was a Javajunkie writer before) I hope you feel this is in character!**

**This sets after season 3. I might use some _spoiler_ information for season 4, but nothing really concrete. I twist it my way. You won't really get spoiled if you read it. It will def. Get rated M later.**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!**

Chapter One  
EVERYTHING IS LOGIC – EXCEPT THIS

She finally reached the front door of the London apartment the Jeffersonian had rented for her. As soon as she set foot in the cold and dark living room, she threw her bag on the coffee table – or was it a tea table here?- and watched it fall off, bringing the potpourri bowl with it in a big crash. And she let herself fall back on the couch. The stupid, uncomfortable, leather couch. She didn't care about the potpourri. She didn't care about the fact that all the content of her bag was spread across the living room's hardwood floor.

With a long sigh, she massaged her temples. She had never been so exhausted in her whole life. This entire past week, as soon as she got out of bed, she felt tired. She was totally drained. Even the remains she was working on couldn't take her mind off this mess. She felt as if she was drowning.

She had jumped on the opportunity to come to London. And for once, she was aware of the fact that she was running away. Running from her work, her life. Running from stupid Sweets who had provoked them, pushed them too far with his illogical experiments. Running from Cam, who was snappier than ever, and with whom Brennan couldn't help but argue all the time. Running from Angela, who was unknowingly teaching her how to think more like a woman and less like a doctor. Running from Hodgins who was sulking, mad at the world since Zack... Running away from the Jeffersonian building which had always been her safe haven with its quiet, empty and soothing hallways, but which was now haunted by Zack's ghost. Running away from those stupid interns, those wannabes who would never be good enough. Running away from _him_. Her partner.

This whole thing was completely irrational. And the more she thought about it, the worst it got. Her eyes closed, she almost laughed at herself when she remembered she had even turned to psychology to try and make sense out of it all. This was all Angela's fault. She had coerced her into spending an evening watching all those stupid _Sex and the City_ episodes...

"Why are we watching this again?" Brennan asked as the oldest of the girl friends was going at it yet again on Angela's huge TV screen.

"I thought you'd find this interesting. From an anthropological point of view."

"Right..."

"I'm serious!"

Brennan couldn't help but hold back a smile. "How old is the guy Tabatha's with?"

"Wrong show, sweetie. That's Samantha. Tabatha's two years old and she does magic with her nose."

Brennan shrugged and pointed at the screen. "He can't be more than 21 years old."

"And?"

"I don't know how she does it."

"Oh, it's easy, trust me. You lift one leg up while holding on to something and you bend you knee while reaching..."

Brennan laughed again. The wine was definitely getting to her. "No! I mean... I've never been attracted to guys 20 years younger than me..."

"That's because you're 33... You do the math."

Brennan frowned, trying to calculate. "Oh..."

Angela patted her friend on the knee.

"Yeah. Stop thinking, just watch the episode," Angela ordered, smirking.

Brennan turned back to the TV. And she smiled to herself. She had to have Booth watch this. Maybe he had watched it before. He had so many guilty pleasures he didn't want to talk about... Angela started talking again while Brennan's thoughts wandered further.

"You've dated younger guys before, haven't you?" Angela asked.

Sober Brennan would not have been able to understand her own train of thoughts, but her tipsy-self felt she had to tell someone. Finally let it out. Admit it aloud.

"I think I'm attracted to Booth."

_That came out of nowhere..._ Angela thought, trying not to squee, as she kept staring at the screen, like she hadn't really heard the huge confession.

Brennan felt a pinch of disappointment. She had expected her friend to start cheering, to jump up and down on the couch, to do something. But all Angela said was,

"He's 5 years older than you. We're talking about younger guys here."

Brennan found the remote in the couch cushions and hit _pause._

"Ange, did you hear me? I said I'm attracted to Booth."

Angela raised an eyebrow.

"You said you_ thought_ you were. You're sure now?"

Brennan frowned and held back a little. She was feeling as though she had set foot on a land mine.

"You think this is news, Bren? I told you that 2, no, 3 years ago. I'm glad you finally put it into words, though. Makes it more real, doesn't it?"

"But... How could you... I mean, when have I ever done or say anything that gave you that impression?"

"Are you kidding?" Angela said. Seeing how lost Brennan really looked, she sat up more comfortably. _This might take a while._

Brennan took a deep breath and tried to understand.

"I've always been professional. I've never... Do you think he knows?" Her voice cracked. She was scared now.

"You would barge into his place naked and he would still remain clueless."

_Right. Because he doesn't think of me that way. Ever. He's made that clear a million times already._ Feeling the hinge of her stomach twisting sorely, she blamed the alcohol, turned back to the TV and pressed play.

"Whoa! This conversation is not over, Brennan," Angela said.

Brennan felt the urge to change the subject. But she was so nervous of finally talking about this out loud that she couldn't find anything else to say. So she got up and fled to the kitchen.

"Do you have anything to eat?" she said.

"I've waited long enough to have this conversation. You're not changing the subject," Angela followed her.

Brennan stopped. Her head was spinning. Or was it the room? She leaned against the wall.

"It's no big deal, Ange," she defended herself. "He's alpha..."

"Aw, don't give me that alpha-male, hormonal crap. Everyone can see you two are eating the walls not to jump each other."

Brennan laughed out loud at the image.

"That's not true! We're not..."

"Look. You know when you watch _Sex and the City,_ you root for Carrie and Mr Big? Because you see this huge thing between them?"

Brennan shook her head.

"Yeah, but that's because of music and camera angles. That's viewer manipulation. It's all about editing."

Angela grabbed her friend by the shoulders.

"When we watch you and Booth, that's exactly what we see. No editing."

_You see it from me or from him too?_ she burned to ask. But she kept quiet, pursing her lips tightly together and looking directly into Angela's eyes.

"You _watch_ Booth and me? Why?" she asked, sounding almost like a little girl.

"The tension, honey. You can't tell me you don't feel the tension. At least sometimes."

"You can't feel tension. You can feel tense, but there's no way to measure something..."

The look on Angela's face felt like a warning. So Brennan capitulated.

"There are times when... we're both silent. And we kind of... stare at each other. I mostly stare back because I want to know what he's thinking. But it can get quite... uneasy to hold his gaze. Is that... tension?"

Angela nodded, proud of her. "Now, next time you two have a moment, I want you to seize the day."

Sensing an _I-don't-know-what-that-means,_ Angela explained. "You have to take a chance. And kiss him."

"Oh, no!" Brennan interjected, raising a hand. "It gets way too weird when we kiss..." She could smash her own head into the wall. Why did she have to say that?

Angela's eyes widened, her mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"

Brennan would not be able to get out of this one. She cringed.

"It was one time!" she specified.

Brennan watched her friend put both hands in front of her mouth and she heard some muffled _"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"_

"It was nothing! It was only mistletoe," she continued, her eyes averting to the end of the hallway. If only she could pull a fire alarm or something. Like that one time in school, when Russ knew she had fallen asleep before finishing studying for the most important biology exam of the semester. He had gotten her out of it that way.

Angela's head spun up.

"Mistletoe?!" she cried out. "You kissed around Christmas and didn't tell me?"

"It was not a real kiss. Well, it was technically, but... We were blackmailed into it. He didn't want to."

"_He_ didn't want to? So you..."

"_WE. _I mean we didn't want to."

"By whom?"

"You're confusing me."

"Who forced you to kiss under the mistletoe?"

Brennan sighed.

"Caroline Julian."

"Do you have her home address?"

Confused, Brennan said, "No, why?"

"I have to send that woman some awesome flowers." Angela was hyper now. "Did you use tongue? Oh! Was it sloppy and intense? Of course it was, otherwise, you wouldn't have mention it if it was only a peck. Who kissed whom?"

"Ange! " Brennan hid her face in her palms.

"Oh my God. I can't believe this. I need another drink."

Angela got to the fridge and opened another bottle of wine. "Talk. Now. Details." She took a gulp directly from the bottle.

"Angela, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Never mind and answer me."

"Fine," Brennan gave up, and sat at the kitchen table. "What was the question again?"

"Who kissed whom?"

It had been a while since Brennan had thought about it in details. She was about to lick her dry lips, but she was afraid Angela would take it as a sign of some sort.

"I think I did. Caroline had to push him towards me. He really didn't want to. So I had to kiss him first."

Angela thanked God. _This is way too good._ She nodded for her friend to continue.

"That's it," Brennan concluded.

"That's far from it, Bren. When I say 'details', I mean '_details'._"

Brennan shook her head. "Like what?"

"Were you nervous?"

"Not at all," Brennan answered right away. "Why would I have been nervous?"

But Angela didn't buy it.

"Come on!" she insisted. "We're talking about _Booth_ here."

Did she really have to repeat his name every 5 seconds? Sighing again, Brennan folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them.

"Fine. I was nervous. Only because he was too. Nervous, I mean. I could tell because he chuckled a lot and he was fidgeting."

"What was it like?" Angela pressed her.

Just thinking about it made Brennan's stomach flutter. She ignored the feeling and got up on her feet.

"Do we have to talk about this now? We haven't reached the episode you wanted me to see."

"We don't have to talk about it now. But if we don't, I will harass you every day for the rest of your life until you tell me what I want to hear. So I suggest you say it all right now and we won't have to talk about this ever again," Angela answered. _As if._

"Fine," she said, sitting back down. She reached for the bottle of wine. Maybe one big sip would make this easier. But she was way too self aware. She thought if she drank right now, she would show Angela how affected she was by this conversation. And she really wanted to look annoyed. Not flustered. So she played with the sticker on the bottle instead.

"I kind of grabbed him. And he surprised me..."

"How so?"

"He... used his tongue."

Brennan interrupted her friend before she could scream in delight.

"I'm sure it was a reflex."

"Did you get butterflies?"

She didn't answer but her cheeks flushed and betrayed her.

"I wish I could have seen this..." Angela muttered to herself.

Brennan opened her mouth, details were now flowing through her brain. She really wanted to forget she was an adult and just dish like a school girl. But she stopped herself. Angela noticed it.

"You can tell me. I'm your best friend, I won't tell anyone."

"You'll tell Hodgins. I know you."

"No I won't. This is girl talk. It's sacred."

"It was a fake kiss but I..." Her mind was playing the kiss in repeat now. She snapped out of it. "I can't talk about it anymore. Please?"

Hearing her friend begging her, Angela smiled faintly, understanding. But she had to ask,

"I'm sure you two never talked about this? You probably ignore it even ever happened."

Brennan nodded.

They slipped into silence for a while. Brennan wished she had never said all this out loud. Angela was right. Telling someone made it more real. She would never be able to stop thinking about him that way now. And she couldn't let this happen. This had to stop. She needed help. And the only person she knew who could help was Sweets. She would have to turn to psychology, even if it killed her, and hope no one would ever know. Especially not Booth.

TBC...


	2. It's All About Psychology

**A.N.:**** Hey! Thanks for the reviews, guys! Hope you enjoy this one too. I know it begins slowly, but don't worry. It'll heat up soon. Oh! And I hope you're not too confused. This is all one big flashback since she's in London at the beginning of chapter 1. I didn't want to go back and forth between past and present so I'm trying to put all flashbacks together.**

Chapter 2  
IT'S ALL ABOUT PSYCHOLOGY

Brennan was waiting outside of Dr Sweets' office, trying to concentrate on the National Geographic she was holding. The truth is, she was constantly glancing around to make sure no one she knew... or no one that knew Booth... recognized her.

_If he doesn't open his door in the next 10 seconds, I'm leaving,_ she promised herself. But she hadn't reached 4 when Sweets finally peeked his head out, before letting her in.

She entered the office and sat down as the psychologist shut the door. It wasn't long before he broke the uncomfortable silence they were in.

"So! Dr Brennan. To what do I owe the pleasure of a private one on one with you? Have I done anything wrong?"

"How would I know?"

Sweets sat down behind his desk, pen in hand, ready to take notes. Brennan stopped him.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make this official. I mean, this would be off the record."

"I'm not a journalist, Dr Brennan."

"I mean... I don't want this session in my file. Or whatever. If I do have a file. Do I have a file?"

"I can assure you everything you say here will stay confidential."

She didn't care if he wrote things down. He could record the stupid thing if he wanted to. She was only trying to buy some time. She still couldn't believe she was sitting there willingly.

"So. How can I help you?" Dr Sweets asked.

"I need your expertise."

Sweets sat up a little straighter. "For a case?" he suggested.

"For myself."

His face stayed passive, even though he almost choked on his saliva.

"But you absolutely hate psychology," he pointed out.

Brennan stared out the window.

"Yes. But I need some objective advice on a perso... professional matter."

Sweets was so curious now, he couldn't help but ask, "Why come to me? Why not talk to Angela? Or to Agent Booth?"

At the mention of his name, she flinched a little. She tried to hide it by wiping some imaginary stain on her pants.

"Because... Angela's my best friend. She's a very emotional person and she can't help but be subjective. You're a professional. I respect that."

She was flattering him. This was serious.

"I need some answers," she continued. "And if your irrational ones are the only ones I can get, I'll take them."

Sweets nodded slowly.

"Ok," he said. And he waited for her to talk. But she was waiting for him to say something. So he encouraged her. "What's going on?"

After a deep breath, she heard her own voice.

"These past few weeks, I've been... uhm..."

"Feeling?" he suggested.

"I've been _thinking_ about..."

Hearing herself stumble on words, she shook her head to recompose herself. She sounded like Booth. Dr Temperance Brennan wasn't afraid of words.

"I've been feeling, if you will, sexually attracted to agent Booth."

"Funny."

That's all Sweets said. Brennan frowned, trying to keep her cool.

"What? Why's this funny?"

"The way you said _agent_ Booth. You never call him like that. It's like you're detaching yourself from him."

_You knew coming here was a huge mistake,_ she told herself, grinding her teeth not to be rude to the young doctor.

"I don't need your impressions," she said. "I need you to give me a trick or something to make it go away."

Sweets raised an eyebrow.

"To make your _desire_ for agent Booth go away?" he said, insisting on the word 'desire'. Was he mocking her?

"Exactly," she responded.

_The only trick I know is to just do it,_ Sweets thought to himself, wondering how the anthropologist would react if he said that. He decided not to test her.

"Why do you want this attraction to go away?"

It suddenly hit Brennan that they were really talking about it. She quickly swiped the desk with her eyes to make sure there was no tape recorder around.

"Why?" she repeated. "Because we work together. And we work all the time. So we're always together. And I can't... do my job if all I can think about is..."

She gestured. _You know._ There it was again: the fear of words. She stepped on her pride. "I can't let my libido interfere with my professional life."

Sweets pondered for a second. Or he pretended to ponder.

"How long have you had those feelings?"

_Since I told Angela about the kiss._ _Or before. I don't know._

"I don't know," Brennan shrugged. "I mean, I've always thought he was... It's been almost constant these past two weeks," she finally said.

Sweets kept quiet.

"Now, ifI knew _why_, it might help me," she added.

"It's simple."

_Thank God._ She leaned forward.

"You've had a rough year. You two have grown together. You've been working together 3 years now. Three years in your line of work is like 10 years in normal people's life."

"I don't like the word 'normal'," she said.

He ignored her.

"You have an undeniable bond, an emotional connection..."

"No," she interrupted him again. "It's not emotional. It's purely physical. I want to make that clear."

He continued.

"You've lost Zack, you've almost lost your father, you nearly died, you thought agent Booth was dead..."

"So it's partly your fault?" she said.

Sweets smiled at her attempt to make him feel uncomfortable.

"But I have an even simpler explanation," he concluded.

_Yes, please._

"How long has it been since your last sexual intercourse, Dr Brennan?" he asked.

Brennan felt as if she had just been hit by a ton of bricks. _That's it! You haven't had sex in more than a year. No wonder you feel so vulnerable! You're body needs sexual activity!_

She felt a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders, and nearly laughed. She smiled politely and got up.

"Thank you," she simply said.

Reaching the door, she turned back to Sweets.

"Could you, maybe... destroy your notes?" she asked, just above a whisper.

He held up the pad of paper he was writing on, and she saw there was only a big sun with a smiley face.

She smiled a thank you, wondering why intelligent people would think the sun could smile.

Leaving Dr Sweets' office, she felt relieved. And stupid for being there in the first place.

* * *

Blank page. She had spent the last two hours looking at the blank page on her computer. At this rate, her next book might come out in two or three years. All she could think about was the conclusion Sweets had _helped_ her reach. And she typed : "I need sex." She stared at the three little words for a while.

She had asked Angela to go out with her tonight, but she already had plans. She knew Angela might help her loosen up, then she could meet someone for a night. She typed: "You're pathetic." And stared at those three little words for a while. Until his voice startled her.

"Booth! You scared me!" she said loudly, rapidly pressing the _erase_ key over and over again until the page was blank again.

"I thought you'd still be here. I just wanted to know if you wanted to go out to celebrate the fact that we haven't had a case in three days," he said, with a little dance.

Truth was: he missed her. A little. Only because he was used to seeing her every day.

God, he was so handsome when his tie was loose like this. She broke eye contact and type something like: "Kifas sdrurn iqhdeems."

"Uhm... I'm not really in the mood to go out, to tell you the truth," she said, detached.

She imagined for a second what it would be like to pick up a man with Booth by her side. 'Awkward' was the only word that came to her mind. She typed it.

"Oh," he let out.

She looked at him. He sounded disappointed. Then she saw Angela barging in her office.

"Hey, Booth!" she greeted him. "Sweetie," she said, turning to Brennan. "I'm so sorry I can't go out tonight..."

Brennan discreetly shook her head, hoping Angela would shut up right about now. But she went on.

"I usually have to drag you, you never ask. You must really need a night out."

Brennan saw Booth raising an eyebrow to her. She closed her eyes for a second. Angela continued,

"Hey! Why don't you go out with Booth?"

The look on Angela's face either meant: "Jump him tonight, perfect opportunity" or "Seize the day tonight." With a wink, Angela was gone. And she was alone with Booth.

"You're not in the mood, huh?" Booth said.

Brennan turned to her computer and franticly typed some more meaningless letters.

"I need to write some pages for my editor," she lied.

Before she could hide the screen, Booth turned it towards him and saw what she had written so far. Brennan sank into her chair imperceptibly.

"You're inspired, I see. This is worth a 7-figure advance?"

He gave her a charming smile. As long as he was making fun of her, she knew he wasn't mad at her for lying to him.

"So!" Booth started. "You don't want to go out with me, huh? Should I be offended? Hurt? Both?"

"No! I just... At first, I wanted to go out. But when Angela told me she was busy, I figured..."

"It's fine. I can help you write your book," he said, pulling a chair next to her. He stretched his arms over his head and made his knuckles crack. "Let's see..."

His aftershave tickled her nostrils and her heart skipped a beat as his hand landed on her shoulder. She heard herself almost giggle. That wasn't good. Dr Brennan did not giggle. Not in her office, at least.

"Yeah, some other time, maybe," she said, pushing him away.

"I have some hot material," he confessed. "I really could..."

_What did he have to say that?_

"Thanks. Maybe for the next book."

Booth took the hint and got up. Before leaving, he remembered.

"Oh! I almost forgot. We have a meeting with Sweets tomorrow at 9," he said, snapping two fingers before clapping his hands. A habit of his Brennan had tried to master without any shadow of success. "He says it's important we both be there."

Brennan froze.

"Huh?"

That's the only thing that could come out of her mouth.

"Yeah," Booth confirmed.

"Why... why... Why does he want to see us?"

Booth tried not to laugh at her stuttering. _What's going on with her?_ he thought.

"I don't know. Something about some last issues or whatever."

Brennan, speechless, nodded. This could not be good.

"I bet it's only an excuse to see us again, you know? Since he's in love with us and all."

She forced a smile.

"Well... Good luck with your writing. I'll see you tomorrow. Can't wait to see what issues Sweets has come up with now."

"Me too," she almost whispered. "Night, Booth."

Once he was out of sight, she stared back at the screen, trying in vain to slow down her heart beats.

_No way. Dr Sweets would never do that. He would never... _

But what if he did?

--

TBC...


	3. The Truth is Out There

**A.N.:**** You continue reviewing and I'll continue to update. Simple. **

**Hope you like this one. Can you feel the heat coming?? This story is gonna be way longer than I thought it would!**

Chapter Three  
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE

Nervousness was not rational. Whatever was gonna happen was gonna happen anyway, being nervous wouldn't change anything. Brennan kept repeating this to herself like a mantra, but it didn't help. She was scared.

She thought about not going. But then, she would have to deal with Booth's questions, Sweets could interpret her absence anyway he'd want to. Even worse, they could talk about her and she'd not be able to defend herself. She had to go.

As she exited the elevator, she spotted Booth, waiting next to Dr Sweets' door. He was playing with the bottom of his shoe. She sat down next to him, wondering why she had decided to wear a skirt today.

"What've you got there?" she asked, looking at what he was doing.

"Parker's new idea of fun."

She stared at him blankly, waiting for him to explain.

"He thinks putting gum under people's shoes is funny."

She frowned.

"It's a phase," he added, brushing it off with his hand.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because he's six?"

"I was six once..."

"Really?"

"... and I never had that phase."

"I bet you didn't do much at all," he mumbled.

Her voice raised as she got offended.

"I played tricks a lot on Russ!"

Booth just looked at her, his smirk reaching his eyes.

"Fine. Not a lot. But I did. Funny ones, too."

They waited in silence. She looked at her wrist but noticed she wasn't wearing her watch.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"9:07," Booth answered.

Her broad smile made him smile in return.

"What?" he asked.

"Maybe Dr Sweets forgot about today."

Booth laughed. "Is that excitement I hear in your tone?"

"You've seen me excited before..." she said before she could realize how that would sound like.

She heard him snort but didn't look at him. She continued.

"What do you say we dish?"

"We what?"

"Dish. You know... As in leave. As in not go."

"Ditch, Bones. _Ditch_."

"You say to-mah-to, I say to-ma-to..."

Booth laughed. "That's not what it means, Bones. Nice try though."

"What do you think? Wanna ditch?" she ignored his last comment, really hoping he'd agree.

He just stared at her. She knew that look. It wasn't a good sign. She sighed.

"You really don't want to go in," he stated. She didn't answer, so he continued. "Would Dr Brennan have something to hide?"

"What?! No! You're always saying these sessions are stupid. I'm just catching up with you. Aren't you glad I finally agree? Come on. Let's go."

He shook his head. "Oh no. Now I wanna go. Bones' got skeletons in her closet. Me like it."

"I didn't understand a word you just said."

She watched him get up. He went up to the closed door and banged on it. Loudly.

"Sweets! Your favorite patients are here. Open up!"

"Booth!" she shushed him. "Booth!" She pulled on the hem of his jacket.

And Sweets decided to open the door.

"Hey, guys. I was just gathering some things."

Booth turned to his partner. She looked paler than usual. She seemed nervous too, nibbling on her bottom lip like this... He hated when she did that. Because he knew he could never bite on her lip himself. And it looked damn good. He clenched his fists and entered the office.

Booth had to stop looking at her like this. Every once in a while, he'd give her that intense deep look which always increased her heart rate. _Stop that right now, Temperance. You're a strong woman,_ she willed herself. She went in and sat down on her side of the couch.

As Sweets fumbled through a stack of papers, she watched Booth by the corner of her eye and saw he was wiping his gumed shoe on the carpet. She went to roll her eyes at him but he shot her one of his charming, childlike, sly smile. And she had to hold back a laugh by biting the inside of her cheeks. _How does he do that?_

"Ok!" Sweets said, clapping his hands once, startling them. "So!" He looked directly at Brennan. "How are you feeling?" he asked. And she died a little inside.

Frozen, no words would come out of her mouth. She could hear them in her head, but they stayed there. She must have looked like a fool. Thankfully, Booth noticed nothing and he's the one who answered.

"We're both fine, Sweets."

_We._

"Why don't you tell us what those last issues are so we can finally get on with our lives?" he asked.

_We._

Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, waiting. Sweets finally stopped looking at her, to direct his next question to Booth.

"Since Dr Brennan here has seen you naked, how do you feel?"

Brennan shut her eyes for a millisecond, absorbing the shock, waiting for Booth to chew the young doctor's head off.

"What?" he burst. "I had forgotten about that, thanks for reminding me."

Sweets was having a field day today. He smiled inside as the two partners clearly couldn't look at each other. He suspected Dr Brennan would make the first eye contact after this.

And she did.

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of, really," she bluntly stated.

Booth choked. "Uhm... thank you?" he mumbled, turning red.

"So you looked?" Sweets pushed her.

Booth cracked up – mostly not to cry- and Brennan's breath got stuck in her throat.

"Well, I... I... didn't _look._ I _saw. _That's completely..."

Booth shook his head.

"Nah, nah. You looked. I saw you look."

"That's not..."

"Guys!"

"Fine! I take it back," Brennan said.

"What?" Booth asked.

"You should be ashamed."

"No, no, no, no no. You can't take it back now. You almost said I should be proud."

Brennan gasped. "I said that so you wouldn't feel bad that I looked at your member."

She noticed him wincing at her last words. That's how she knew he would not pick up on the fact she had admitted she had looked.

"I.. you... wha..."

It gave her the strength to go on.

"Do you really wanna spend the next hour discussing your penis? Is that the issue?" she asked him. Nailed on the head. He shut up and turned back to Sweets who asked him,

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

He was sulking.

"Are you mad at me now?" she asked him.

"Well, how would you feel if we talked about your breasts?"

Normally, she'd have said something like 'I wouldn't care. It'd be like talking about my arms or my feet.' But something in the way his voice had said the words 'your breasts' made her shiver. And the way his eye had trailed down her bust... She hadn't expected that. He usually used the terms "female parts". She was stunned, that's all. She capitulated and turned back to Sweets.

Brennan put her elbow on the arm of the sofa and rested her chin on her hand. If she prayed, she'd pray for this hour to be done with. But she didn't. So she waited.

The psychologist talked first.

"I think agent Booth feels..."

Booth groad at the word.

"... that he's shared more with you than he wanted to. And to make things right, I suggest you..."

"I'm not showing him my breasts!" she interjected.

Booth looked from Sweets to Brennan to Sweets. Was he really gonna make her show him her... _Oh, dear God. What's going on here?_

"No, Dr Brennan. I think you should share a secret with him. A secret you've told no one else."

Booth settled down and nodded, agreeing. Brennan pondered. Clearly, Sweets was not talking about the topic of their private session. She had told Angela and the psychologist. She wracked her brain to find something... She couldn't.

"I can't think of anything," she said.

"You think about it. You'll find something," Sweets said. "But right now, I have something for you."

"A gift? Oh, Sweets, you shouldn't have," Booth said.

Brennan was still wondering what secret she could tell Booth. So she didn't notice Sweets was pulling two files out of a pile. Booth sat up straighter.

"What's that?" he asked.

Brennan snapped out of her head.

"That's a little exercise, if you will, that I like to call _The Truth is Out There._"

Booth chuckled.

"That explains a lot about you, Sweets!" He turned to his partner. "He's a X-Files shipper."

"You ship sex files?" she asked, lost. "What's that mean?"

Booth laughed even louder. _Mind in the gutter, much?_

"Not _sex_ files. The X-Files. The TV show. Mulder and Scully."

Those names sounded familiar to her.

"Do I have to watch this show? I think you've mentioned those names before."

"Ask Hodgins. He probably have the dvds somewhere."

"Why? What's it about?" Brennan asked.

Booth said, "Aliens. Conspiracies..."

But Sweets said, "FBI guy, female doctor, partners fighting crime and falling in love."

The silence that set in, even Brennan would have qualified it as 'heavy'. Even though you can't weight silence.

"Remember the questionnaire you took when you first started therapy?" Sweets finally said.

_Oh. My. God._

"I'm giving them back to you."

Sweets handed them their own questionnaire.

"I want you to..."

"Destroy them?" Booth mumbled.

"No."

"Frame them?" he suggested.

"Are they graded?" Brennan said to make Booth laugh.

"Good one!" he said, high fiving her. She loved making him laugh.

Sweets shut up and waited for them to do the same. Brennan opened her questionnaire. That was a long time ago. She didn't even remember what she had written.

"I want you, as a last assignment, to share your answers with the other."

Booth hugged the file tightly on his chest.

"You can't make us to that," he refused. "That's personal."

"And that's exactly why you should share."

Brennan silently followed her partner out of the office, down to the elevator.

"You know," Booth said, "he would never know if we shared or not. We don't have to..."

Curiosity probably was a sin. But she wasn't catholic.

"Does agent Booth have a body in his dresser?"

Booth frowned, repeated the words to himself, then his clear laugh filled the elevator. She smiled.

"What?"

"Skeletons in the closet. Not _body_ in a..."

"Oh."

He handed her his questionnaire. She gave him hers. She opened the file she had in her hand, ready to start reading.

"Not right now!" he said.

She looked at him.

"You don't want to be there when I read it?"

"Oh, I want to be there. I don't even remember what that thing was about. It should be fun. Let's go to the diner."

She shrugged. She could wait a few minutes.

_It should be fun..._ Yes. Indeed, it should.

--

TBC


	4. Truth or Dare Without the Dare Part

**A.N.: Thanks guys for your AMAZING support! I'm really enjoying writing this. I hope you like this one... **

Chapter Four  
TRUTH OR DARE – WITHOUT THE DARE PART

They sat down at their usual table, putting the questionnaires well in sight, next to the napkin holder. If Brennan used the word 'vibe', she'd say there was a weird one floating over them at that very moment. But she didn't.

"So..." Booth said.

She interrupted him.

"Let's order first."

"Good idea. Coffee?" he asked, getting up.

"Yes, please." She watched him go over to the counter. She was disappointed. He hadn't asked her if she wanted pie. She noticed all those silly details now because of Sweets. He was the one who brought up the pie analogy. But she wasn't disappointed because of what Sweets thought it meant. No. She was disappointed because it was their 'thing'. She frowned, concentrating, trying to find the appropriate word. 'Thing' was such a meaningless word. Anyway. She loved having 'things', a routine, something that didn't change in her life. Something she could count on to always be there.

She turned to watch him. He was waiting in line. He caught her eyes and made a funny face to make her laugh. She smiled.

God! He loved making her smile. He ordered two cups of coffee, wondering if he should get her a piece of pie too, to make her laugh. But she'd probably hit him instead. She had refused the pie offering three years in a row. Still... it was fun to ask every time.

Making her laugh was not an easy task. She was trying to be so serious all the time. His goal was to succeed at least once a day. Especially since his fake death. Something had changed between them. He couldn't put his finger on it. But she had built some kind of wall around herself. He could feel it. Laugh after laugh, smile after smile, he was slowly bringing it down. The cashier handed him his change.

Brennan took her own questionnaire and flipped through the pages. This was not the complete survey. It was way too thin. She recognized her handwriting... and the questions. _Oh no. Ohhh no._

"What do you think you're doing, you cheat?!" Booth said, putting his hand flat on the file so she'd stop reading. He put his pie in front of him and handed her her coffee.

"I didn't cheat. I merely saw anything..."

"Like in my bathroom."

She tilted her head.

"When will you come off it?"

"When you share a big secret with me."

"I don't have any secrets," she said.

He snorted. "I'm sure you have more secrets than all the squints put together. And you better find one soon."

"I don't. I really have no clue what to tell you."

He squinted his eyes.

"Maybe I should ask Angela..." he said, meeting her gaze. "She knows you."

Before panicking for no reason, Brennan asked, "You didn't bring me fries? You know I always eat fries."

"Want some pie?" he said, pushing his plate towards her.

Her stomach fluttered, probably because she was hungry. She held in a smile.

"I don't like pie," she said for the billionth time. They smiled, knowingly.

Just before they could relax, Booth asked.

"So. What did you see when you cheated?"

"Nothing. Just that..." She cleared her throat. "I don't think it's the whole questionnaire. It's only one section of it."

"The personality test section where we had to tell our favorite color, our favorite time of day... The one where we had to name all of our family pets?"

She shook her head. "The other one."

Booth thought back. He had answered that thing forever ago. Then it hit him.

"Oh."

He took a mouthful of pie. It tasted funny. It tasted like heartburn. He set it aside and wiped his lips with a napkin.

"How do we proceed?" she asked. "I read yours, you read mine..."

"I'll take mine, you take yours and we will read our answers."

"So... it's a trust exercise now? I'm supposed to just believe you won't change your answers?"

"Will you change yours?"

"No!"

"Neither will I. Ok! Question number 1..."

"Wait!" she said, taking one last sip of coffee before opening her questionnaire to the first page. "Ok."

"Ok. Question number 1: Describe your partner as you saw him/her the first time you met," Booth read. "Oh yeah. I remember now. Why would Sweets want us to..."

Brennan interrupted him and read her answer word for word.

"Agent Seeley Booth was arrogant, pushy, annoying and immature," she said grinning.

"Well, that's nice..." he commented. "And I said : Bones was stuck up, weird, nerdy, beautiful and passionate."

She tried not to blush.

"See? We can already see I'm so much nicer than you are."

"Hence the arrogant in my answer," she mumbled.

_He thought I was beautiful?_

"Question number 2," she continued. "Were you attracted to the other?"

Booth heart skipped a beat. _Aw, man! _He didn't want to answer. Brennan wanted to know.

"What did you write?" she asked. _This is fun._

"I wrote... yes," he said, taking another spoonful of pie, avoiding her eyes.

"And I wrote 'no'," she said. "Question number 3..."

"Hey, hold on!" he almost shouted. "You were _sooo_ attracted to me when we first met."

She laughed out loud. "What, are you nuts? I hated your gut."

"No, the gut thing came later. You..."

"I mean, I didn't like you. At all."

"The question is not about liking the other it's about..."

She interrupted him again.

"I know what the question is, Booth. And my answer is still no. I wasn't attracted to you."

He snorted. "Right. That's why you never stayed away for more than an hour."

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"For an FBI agent, your memory stinks! You were the one always bugging me to..."

"You always wanted to be out in the field with me, missy."

"Yeah! Out in the _field_, not _with you._"

"Fine. Never mind," he mumbled.

She let the silence sooth them a little before asking him.

"But... you were attracted to me?" She didn't recognize her voice. And it bothered her a little.

"I answered that a long time ago. And I didn't know you were gonna read it."

"Technically, I didn't read it. You did."

He ignored her and went on with the next question.

"Question number 3," he read. "Describe your partner as you see them now. Remember Sweets told us this was a standardized test? That doesn't sound standard. That sounds written by him."

She answered right away.

"Booth is honest, loyal, sensitive..."

"So I'm a dog?" he kidded.

She shot him a look.

"Sorry. Go on," he apologized.

"That's it," she lied.

"No it's not."

"How would you know?"

"I interrupted you. You weren't finished."

She didn't speak.

He imitated Sweets, gesturing with his hands. "This is a truth zone. Embrace it."

Her palms were getting sweaty.

"Booth is honest, loyal, sensitive..."

"You already read that part."

"...considerate, loving, warm, funny, intelligent, charming, arrogant, patronizing, quick tempered, and immature."

He blinked once or twice. That was loaded. _Let's just say she thinks a lot of me._

"Booth?"

She startled him. He read his own answer : "Bones is intriguing, charming..." He pause his reading to add, "That's settled then. We are both charming people. Uhm..." And he went on, "Funny, honest, strong... sexy and she smells good."

She squirmed in her seat and put in imaginary strand of hair behind her ear.

"You didn't write that," she verified.

But she saw his ears were bright read. He wasn't lying. He was embarrassed. It was getting hot in the diner. She looked around, for no reason other than to avoid his eyes.

"What, were you drunk?" she asked, seemingly joking.

"Probably..." he laughed. Suddenly, he got up. "You wanted fries, right? Let me get some."

He started to leave but came back, took his own file and fled back to the counter.

Brennan took a deep breath and let it out. Breathing was easier when he wasn't around. Which was plain stupid. Then she discretely sniffed her wrist. Nothing but a soapy scent. She didn't use perfume. Where did he get the idea that she smelled good? She brought the tip of her hair to her nose. Maybe it was her shampoo. It did kind of smell fruity... Did she smell like pie? She sighed, letting her hair fall loosely on her shoulders. And she swore under her breath. When did this nonsense begging exactly? She had no idea. She took a sip of coffee. It was colder than warm. She didn't even notice. When he got back, they quickly ate some fries before Booth read the next question.

"Question 4..." he started.

_Crapity__ crap! Please, can we please skip this one..._

"Are you attracted to the other now?" he read in a monotonous tone.

_SWEETS, I SWEAR I'M GONNA SEND MY FATHER AFTER YOU._

Booth checked his cell phone. Maybe a case would fall on their lap right this second.

"Do we have a case?" Brennan asked him, knowing what he was doing, wishing for the exact same miracle.

He dropped his cell on the table.

"I guess we have to answer," one of them said.

He read the question again, unaware it would torture them even more.

It wasn't planned, but they answered at the same time.

"Yes," Brennan let out, cringing inwardly.

"No," Booth mumbled.

As soon as he heard her answer, his head snapped back up. He went to meet her eyes, but she was looking down, fishing through the plate of fries. His ears seemed to be buzzing. _She said yes? That means she's... Yes? _ He had no idea why he had lied in that questionnaire. He felt like a huge jerk.

Brennan felt like laughing. This situation was so ridiculous, juvenile, pointless... Sweets was an ass. And this was dangerous for their partnership. Wasn't it? This was not going to help. Not one bit. _He said no, right? Why are you feeling so queasy all of a sudden? You knew he was not... _

Dying to get this awkwardness done with, Booth could easily have told her the truth. _I lied when I wrote that. I am attracted to you. You're not alone in this shit._ But he simply read the next question.

"Question number 5..."

_I don't wanna play anymore. _

"Can you picture yourself being partnered with somebody else?" he finished. And he read his answer, "No."

"Yes," Brennan said. She saw his eyebrow raising. Then thin lines formed on his forehead. He was hurt. "I know I would adjust eventually..." she explained.

He kept quiet.

"I didn't say I'd like it!" she defended herself. "I know that, rationally, I could function with another agent, Booth. And we had to be honest. Weren't you honest with your answers?"

_There's your chance, buddy. Tell her you lied earlier._ But that last answer of hers had cut him deeper than he knew. So he said, "Of course."

"Question number 6," she began. "Have you ever feared for your partner's life."

Brennan felt as if she couldn't breathe. She stared at her answer.

"Yes," Booth read his own handwriting. She didn't talk. So he looked up at her. She was staring at her questionnaire. She seemed lost. His chest tightened. He wanted to grab her hand. Rub his thumb against the soft skin of the back of her hand. He put his hands on his lap and pursed his lips.

Brennan laughed faintly. A fake laugh. So fake it hurt both their ears.

"I wrote 'Not really.' Whatever that meant."

She was still staring at her paper. This was only written a few months ago. Back then, she thought he was invincible. Even when he had been taken and tortured... she thought nothing could really happen to him. She never thought about going to her partner's funeral. Back then, she thought her partner's funeral was way down the road. Like... 60 years from now. He almost died weeks ago. He did. For two weeks. _This is one fucked up situation._ She tried to count to five, to hold in whatever was burning her eyes. She was not going to cry.

"Question number 7," she read, steadying her voice.

Booth was still staring at her. He could feel she was not okay. But he knew better than to push her. So he listened to her read the question.

"How often do you think about it?"

"12 to 15 times a day," Booth answered with a laugh.

Brennan frowned.

"You think about death 12 to 15 times a day?"

"I told you I misunderstood the question!" he chuckled. "How was I supposed to know what it was about?"

"It evidently referred to the question before that."

"What did you write?"

"I wrote : 'Never.'" _That was then. _"Then... what do you think about 12 to 15 times a day?"

He smiled, took both questionnaires and tore them in two. Then in four. At that moment, her phone rang.

"Brennan," she answered.

He left the pieces on the table and got up.

"Yes, sir. I'll be right there."

She hung up and heard the question in Booth's look.

"The Head of the anthropology department wants to talk to me."

"About what?"

"I don't know."

"I'll drop you off at the lab."

"Thanks," she said.

She took her purse as he went back to the counter, probably to get two coffees to go. Watching him intensely from afar, she felt a pinch somewhere inside her rib cage. She could not let him in any further. She just couldn't. If she did, what would happen to her next time something happened to him? And if that next time was for real? How would she ever cope? That damn line he had traced so long ago was a blur. She should have stuck by it. But somewhere, at some point, she had taken a wrong turn.

--

TBC...


	5. Passports, CDs and Tornadoes

Chapter Five  
PASSPORTS, CDs AND TORNADOES

This offer couldn't arrive at a better time. She had never been one to just pack up and leave. When she was going somewhere, it was always carefully planned and organized. And she packed days in advance to make sure not to forget anything. This time was different. All she needed was her freaking passport. She knew it was somewhere around here.

She pulled her sofa from the wall. Maybe it had mysteriously fall behind the couch. Nothing. She had looked everywhere. Well, not in the freezer, but why would her passport be in the freezer? Just as she was about to give up and look in the damn freezer, there was a knock at the door. She pulled the door open.

"Hey, Bones! Thought you might be hungr..."

"Can't," she said. And she fled to the kitchen. Maybe it was in one of the cupboards.

"Whoa!" Booth let out, putting the bags of takeouts on the nearest table. He took off his coat. "What's with the tornado?"

His eyes slowly adjusted to the mess. This place was usually so clean it gave him headaches.

"This is worse than my bedroom when I was 15..." he said, more to himself. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I can't find it," he heard her say, her head buried under the sink.

_Oookay._ He knew better than to press her for information when she was frantic like this. It would only be a waste of time. He reached the living room, mindlessly replaced the cushions on the couch, and repositioned the coffee table. He went up to her CD collection which was all over the place and started sorting them out.

"Can you help me, Booth? I think it's in a metallic box."

"What's in a metallic box?"

She didn't answer. He heard a crash. He went for his gun.

"Bones?! Are you okay?" he yelled.

"I'm fine. I'll clean up later!"

He relaxed and brought his attention back to the CDs. Where was it? He had looked through them twice and still couldn't find it.

"Hey, Bones?"

"What?!"

She sounded annoyed. He smiled.

"Where's your Foreigner album?"

Silence was his answer. He turned around, looking for her.

"Bones?"

He found her in her bedroom, down on her knees and elbows, head under the bed. He had a really nice view of her ass, up in the air. He swallowed the big lump in his throat. And put his hands in his pockets, to avoid having to refrain himself from touching her.

"Where's your Foreigner album?" he asked again.

"My what?"

"You know... _'__Well, I'm hot blooded, check it and see-- I got a fever of a hundred and three...'_" he sang.

Trying to get her head out of under the bed, she bumped it into the frame.

"Ow!"

He chuckled. "You okay?"

"I'm fine..." she mumbled, rubbing her head.

She still hadn't answered his question.

"So? Where is it?"

She got up on her feet.

"It broke."

And she pushed him gently out of the way to get out of the bedroom. He looked one last time around. There was a pink bra hanging from the bed post. He massaged his neck, which was really tense. Imagining Brennan in pink underwear was almost too much for his tight pants to bear.

"What do you mean, it broke?" he asked, following her. "CDs don't break."

"They do when you smash them," she explained, still not looking at him. She was now going through a big luggage. He didn't pay attention.

"Who smashed it?" he asked. Then he laughed. "Smash it. A smash _hit_. Got it?" She frowned at him. "No, of course you don't..." he concluded. "Who would do that to a perfectly good classic?"

"I did."

"... When? Why?"

She was emptying the luggage now, evidently looking for something.

"Would you just help me find it?" she asked. And not nicely.

He sighed and spun around, not really intending on finding _it._ But he spotted a metallic box on the top shelf of her huge bookshelf unit. He tiptoed and barely touched the corner. He tried again. This time, he slid it close enough for him to grab it.

"That it?" he asked her, proudly.

Her eyes widened in horror and she ran up to him.

"No! Don't... Give me that!" she almost yelled. She reached for it, but he raised his arm and swung around so she wouldn't be able to get it.

"Whoa there! Isn't that a metallic box?"

"It's not the one I meant."

"What is it?"

"Give it back, Booth!" she almost pleaded.

"Uhm... no," he responded, running to the kitchen.

She ran after him. Her voice got pissed.

"It's not funny."

When he felt he was at a comfortable distance, he went to open it. He looked at her face and his sly grin faded quickly. She wasn't just pissed. Her face was begging him. He stopped and handed her the box.

"Here. Why won't you tell me what's in it?"

"Because it's none of your business," she snapped.

He whistled.

"Wow. Why are you in such a good mood?"

"I'm late."

His heart skipped a beat. _She's... no._

"You are... Late as in..."

"As in... if I don't leave in 15 minutes, I'll miss my flight. And I can't find my passport."

"Oh," he breathed out, relieved she was _late_ late and not late in a feminine way. But then her words got to his brain. "Whoa, wait! Your flight?"

"Yeah." She took a chair and got up on it. She put the mysterious metallic box back on the top shelf.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his shoulders dropping.

"London," she replied, putting the chair back.

_London?_

"What? Wh... For how long?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "As long as they need me there, I guess."

That's what the Head of the department wanted to talk to her about. Booth wiped his face with his palm. Probably to erase that shock look off it.

"There it is!" she nearly yelled, finding her passport stuck in between books. "That's the first place I looked for it. Why didn't I find it?" she asked herself.

Booth had spaced out a few seconds ago.

"You're... leaving. Right now?" he checked.

"That's correct," she said, closing her luggage bag, and pulling it to the front door.

"And were you planning on telling me?" he asked with a sad voice. Brennan heard the sadness but interpreted it as acting childish.

She tilted her head.

"You were on the list of people I wanted notified... but I guess the message didn't get through. It's not my fault."

As soon as the words got out, she blocked her mouth with her hand. She hadn't meant to say that. Booth's head dropped down. He sighed and it snapped back up. He was angry now. She didn't like to see him that pissed at her.

"Are you ever gonna let me off the hook for that?!"

She was still in shock of her own words. When she saw his hand reach the door handle, she finally walked to him.

"Wait! No. I'm sorry, Booth."

He opened the door. She pushed it back, wanting it closed, but he was stronger than she was.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

Still no sign of him calming down. She went under his arm and slid up between his body and the door. She pushed her back against it, and it finally closed.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to... I..." she whispered.

Their eyes locked. For good. His arms were still on each side of her, flat on the door. All he had to do was lean in an inch or two. Her eyes lingered on his nose before dropping to his lips. As soon as her gaze reached them, they parted slightly. She took a sharp intake of breath. Her voice was shaky as she spoke.

"I really thought I was over it. I'm sorry, Booth."

His eyes flickered. They caressed her forehead, met her eyes, slid down her small nose and brushed her lips. He sighed and broke the tension, walking back to the living room.

Brennan shut her eyelids. She licked her dry lips and pushed herself off the door to follow him. _You missed another moment,_ her mind told her, in a voice that resembled Angela's.

"I can't believe you, Bones! You're more upset by the fact that I'm alive than you were by my death!" he yelled. His voice resonated through her apartment. And set her off. _That's it._

"That Foreigner album?!" she shouted, walking in front of him and pushing him roughly on the chest. Not expecting it, he fell down on the couch. "I smashed it when you died!"

He opened his mouth, but she was just getting started.

"I came home, and I took all my bloody clothes off. I threw them out! Along with my necklace, my earrings, my bracelet. I threw them out. Then I took a shower. But I could still smell you on me!" she didn't even try to catch her breath. She was absolutely, utterly furious. "Then I saw the CD and I could still see us dancing in my living room. Then I saw you get blown up by my fridge. And I remembered. You were dead! You didn't die getting blown up. You didn't die getting tortured by criminals! You died because of a STUPID bullet that was meant for me! So I smashed it. I shamed the damn CD. And I smashed the coffee cup you always insisted on using whenever you were here! And I shredded the book I was reading, because you would always move my fucking bookmark to confuse me! And I ripped every damn Tai food restaurants add in the phone book!"

She was panting now. Her knuckles were white and they hurt. She could feel her nails digging through her palms. He didn't know what to say. He thanked God when she turned and walked to the front door. She couldn't see he had freaking tears in his eyes. He took a deep breath and walked to her.

"So you're running away," he said. After all the yelling, his voice sounded somewhat calm.

"I'm not running, I'm flying."

He just stared at her.

"Fine. I'm running away. I need... to get away."

He nodded slowly, but she wasn't sure he really understood.

"There's too much stuff going on at once, with Zach and... everything. And I can't concentrate. I need to focus. I know you can't _lose_ your mind, but I feel like..."

He took her by the shoulders. And squeeze her a little. His eyes dug deep inside hers. She was about to let him in. She blinked.

"Don't do this..." she whispered.

"Do what?" He squeezed her shoulders again, bringing her millimetres closer. He didn't even notice.

"I said stop."

He let her go.

"Stop what?" he asked, really having a tough time following. "Dammit, Bones!"

"What?" she said, as exasperated as he was.

"Don't shut me out."

"I'm not shutting you out. I'm kicking you out," she rectified, pulling the front door open. "Don't worry," she explained. "I'm not gonna kick you." She handed him his coat.

"Thanks," he said.

"I'll see you when I get back."

The door closed in his face. He could feel she was slipping away. One laugh a day wasn't enough. Not anymore.

--

TBC...


	6. You've Got a Kate, I've Got a Fake Date

**A.N.: I really hope you enjoy this. Finally in London. This chapter's a little shorter because I wanted to give you something right now. Please review so I know I'm not losing you... **

Chapter Six  
YOU'VE GOT A KATE, I'VE GOT A FAKE DATE

It was 11 :00 am, London time. She was ready, and waiting for Kyle, the British grad student who had assisted her with the remains the London police had found. He was supposed to pick her up. Kyle was weird. And not in a funny way. He was more annoying than anything. But she knew her mood was really low these days. Anything could get on her nerves. So she didn't really hold it against him. He was late, though. And _that_, she could hold against him.

God, she was cranky. She almost hated herself. The weather was crap, too. _Great, now I'm sounding like Booth._ Booth. His name popped in her head every other second. Thinking back, she didn't feel right having left like this.

She still didn't want to think of the reasons that had made her stay, but she often wondered, especially these past weeks, what her life would have been like if she had left with Sully on that sailboat. Thinking about it didn't serve any real purpose, but she did anyway.

Where was Kyle?! She glanced at the clock, sighing, and pulled out her cell phone to call him.

"Booth," a familiar voice answered.

Brennan's stomach flipped. What was he doing answering Kyle's phone? She looked at the tiny screen on her cell and realized she had dialled _his_ cell number. She took in a shaky breath. She hadn't heard his voice in over a week.

"Hello??" she heard him call out.

"... Hi. It's me."

"Kate?"

_Kate?_ _Who's Kate?_

"Brennan."

"Dr Brennan, well, well. Are you back?"

It was weird hearing him call her Dr Brennan. She didn't like it very much.

"I'm still in London."

"How can I help you then?"

_Is it me, or is he distant? And I don't mean distant as in distance, but..._

She didn't want to tell him she had punched in his number by mistake. He would make fun of her, telling her how much she missed him, and all. But she did anyway. Because she had nothing else to say.

"I was trying to call someone else, and I dialled your number accidently. I'm sorry."

"Ok. Well, I'll see you when you get back."

He hung up. She blinked, listening to the empty sound on the line. He couldn't have changed that much in less than two weeks, could he? She turned off her phone, threw it in her bag and zipped the bag shut in one quick, angry motion.

_Knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock._

Another one of Kyle's annoying quirks. Who the hell knocks 7 times in a row? She fastened her bag on her shoulder and opened the door. The bag dropped to the floor.

"Bones! It's about time you called me!"

She watched him, motionless, her feet glued in place. He waved a hand in front of her face.

"Booth?" she said, shocked.

"Didn't wanna pay extra long distance charge, huh? You waited 'til I was on the same side of the ocean?"

She looked at the spot she was standing during the call, wondering if she had dreamt it though it had happened merely seconds ago.

"I didn't want you to hear me through the door. I wanted to surprise you. Surprise!"

"So... you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you for missing me? Come on!" he said, letting himself in.

His back was turned to her so she allowed herself to grin. Finally.

"Wow, nice digs you got here. Very impressive. I get why you wanted to come here so badly."

Still stunned, Brennan stayed where she was and closed the door.

_Who's Kate? _she wanted to ask.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm curious. Do British people have the same number of bones than Americans?"

She frowned.

"Of course they..."

He was kidding. Of course he was. She laughed at herself.

"You came all the way from DC to ask me that?"

"The remains you helped identify..."

"Identified."

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"You said 'helped identify'. I didn't help. I identified," she clarified.

"I see you're annoying over here, too."

She rolled her eyes when he winked at her. She missed him. He was standing right there, feet away from her. And yet, she missed him sorely. She listened as he talked.

"The guy you _identified_ turned out to be an FBI agent infiltrated in the Metropolitan Police Service. Which makes it my case. Our case."

_Our._

"So, let's go!"

"I can't," she said. Really wishing she'd just go with him. "I have plans."

"What? You have a British date or something?"

The knock on the door pushed her to lie.

"Yes," she said, not looking at him. She quickly welcomed Kyle in.

Booth didn't believe her. She was here to work. She would not waste time with dates, that wasn't her style.

"Ready to go?" Kyle asked.

And _that_ was definitely not her style either. The smile on this guy's tiny face, which could be seen from a satellite, was probably due to the fact that his pants were so tight. And that voice? _Probably the pants, too._

"Yes, just... I'll go get a jacket."

Kyle held his hand in Booth direction.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, like he wanted to be his new best friend or something. Booth frowned and ran after Brennan.

"Hey! Who's that guy?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"My assistant," Brennan replied, trying to find the right jacket.

"Your assistant hairdresser?"

"What? No. My anthropolo..."

"You can't date him!" Booth snorted.

"Why not?" _Are you jealous?_

"Because he's clearly gay, Bones! Look at him!"

She turned to see Kyle. He waved at them. Yeah. Probably not the best candidate for a make belief date. Oh, well.

"We connect on an intellectual level."

"Oooh. Right. That keeps you warm at night."

"It's summer. It's warm enough."

She walked away from him.

"I'll see you later," she said.

_I come all this way, and she won't even stay long enough to have a decent conversation._

He sighed, putting his hands in his pocket. He had busted his ass to get this case. To be able to come here with a great excuse. He would probably have to eat Cullen's shit for the next year and a half. And she didn't care.

He saw her turn back to him right before heading outside.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"... I'm glad you're here," she confessed. And she was gone.

_That'll do._

* * *

She had forgotten how boring doing paperwork was. Booth made it fun. Kyle made it worse. She had just spent the longest 2 hours of her life when she got Booth's message to meet him at the Scotland Yard, the headquarters of the MPS – Metropolitan Police Service.

Kyle dropped her off. She spotted Booth, leaning against some pillar in front of the building.

"Hey!" she called out.

"How was the big date?" he asked.

"If I tell you, does it count as the secret Sweets wants me to tell you?"

He smiled.

"I was hoping you wouldn't forget. But no, it wouldn't count."

"Ok, then."

"You know what would count?"

She squinted her eyes, blinded by the sun. The sun was finally out.

"What?" she asked.

"Telling me what's in the mystery metallic box on top of your bookshelf."

She shook her head. "Never."

He pouted like a baby.

"I'll find something, don't worry," she said.

She knew he was staring at her. She could feel it. But she didn't want to look at him. She stared at his shoes.

"Are you all caught up with the case?"

"Yes..." he lingered. "Bill, the bug guy over here, told me all about it."

"Good."

"You know..." he continued. "He also happens to be Kyle's boyfriend."

She looked at her feet.

_Gotcha._

"Why would you lie to me about going on a date?"

"I didn't," she said. _Quick. Think. Ok._ "You asked if I had a date or something. I said yes. I had something."

He reviewed her reasoning. Flawless, of course.

"Clever..." he said.

_Who's Kate?_

He sat down on the stairs and handed her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," she said, taking it. The tip of her fingers brushed his hand. She almost let the cup fall.

"Since you're here, back home I'm stuck with Kate."

At the mention of the name that had been puzzling her, she sat next to him.

"Who's Kate?" she finally got to ask.

"She's replacing... She's filling in for... Cam hired her for Zack's job."

There was no way he could say that sentence without mentioning Zack. But a quick glance in her direction indicated she was ok with that.

"Is she competent?" she said, taking a sip of coffee.

"You won't like her," he stated.

"Why?"

He just laughed and shrugged.

"I don't think you're compatible.

_Are you two compatible?_

"Did you two..."

In order to ask her question, she had to risk looking jealous.

"...work on any cases?"

"Once."

She had a feeling the reason she hadn't sailed away with Sully was just this: she didn't want to risk losing her partnership with Booth, to risk seeing him getting a new partner.

Silence.

"She wouldn't stop telling me to shut up," he said, lips on his paper cup.

"Why?"

"I wouldn't stop talking about you."

Brennan's eyes met his. They never said things like this to each other. It felt too... much.

"Booth... Why are you telling me this?"

"So you know I really, really don't want a new partner."

"Okay."

_And know that I won't sleep with your temporary replacement when you come back to the Jeffersonian. Like you did with Sully. _

"I missed you, you know?"

There. He had said it. Then, it was ok for her to say it too. _Come on._

She smiled, genuinely touched.

"I know," she said.

He laughed faintly. He knew she wouldn't admit it. He was glad he did, though.

--

TBC... Next up: Pubbing, Drinking, Snogging


	7. British Equivalent

**A.N.:** **Thank you for your comments! I'm realy trying not to bore you with case details. I hope you stay with me!**

Chapter Seven  
BRITISH EQUIVALENT

"Days seem longer in England, don't they?" Booth asked Brennan as they walked to his rented car.

They had just met with a man who had directed them to a pub. There, they would meet two agents who could tell them more about the victim's life. Life always helps with explaining death. 'It's what makes the world go round,' Booth had told her once. Of course, it was a silly concept.

"Days are the same duration anywhere, Booth..."

"I didn't say they _were_ longer. I said they _seemed_ longer."

She reached the car door.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Waiting for you to unlock the door..." she answered.

"We're in England."

She failed to see his point. "I know."

"And in England, cars are on the wrong side."

"Meaning?"

"That if you want the passenger door, it's the other one."

"I know," she said.

"You think you're driving?" he asked her.

"Well... yes. I've been here longer than you. I know the streets. It makes sense."

"No, it doesn't make any sense, Bones. I'm the one with the key," he said in a smug tone, throwing the key in the air and catching it.

He walked up to the driver's door, but she was in the way. And she wouldn't move.

"We don't have time for this," he whined.

"I concur."

But she didn't move.

So he put his hands on her hips to push her aside. She jerked at his touch and hit her back on the car.

_What was that?_ he thought.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Drive, I don't care," she mumbled before walking to the passenger's side.

She could still feel his hands on her once she got into the car. She would have to be careful not to let him do that again.

Brennan stared out the window, trying to ignore the fact that this car was very, very small.

"How are Angela, Hodgins and Cam?" she asked.

"You haven't called them at all?"

She shook her head.

"I feel special," he said with a grin.

"Why? Because you're a special agent?"

"You're getting better with the kidding thing, Bones. I'm proud."

She felt foolish.

"I feel special because you called _me_."

"By accident," she rectified.

"You still called me," he said.

He told her everyone was fine. Even though everyone was still struggling. She had been right wanting to come here. He would have done the same thing.

"Why didn't you call me, really?" he questioned her.

_Because I wanted to too much._ If that had made any sense, that's what she'd have said. But she replied, "You didn't call me either."

"But you're the one who left," he specified.

That sounded like a well known after-breakup explanation he had had too many times with women.

"Exactly," she said with a tone that put an end to the subject.

_What?_

He whistled some tune for a minute, then he shouted, "Oh!" like he just had an illumination. "Have you listened to the radio since you're here? The stations here are hilarious!"

He turned the knob of the radio all the way up.

"_...phone rings in the middle of the night,"_

Brennan's throat shut down, her heart raced. She recognized the song instantly.

"_My father yells "What you gonna do with your life?  
Oh,daddy,dear,  
You know you're still number one,"_

She tried not to show anything and clenched on the fabric of her pants.

"_But girls,  
They wanna have fu-un,  
Oh,girls,just wanna--"_

Until she couldn't take it anymore. Before she hyperventilated, she turned it off.

"Hey, you love that song!" he said without thinking.

"Yeah. I did."

He concentrated on the road in front of him. She wanted her voice to sound detached, but it only made it sound even more hurt. At least to Booth.

"Your death kinda ruined it for me."

He hesitated a little before saying, "But I'm not dead."

"I know."

"And it's just a song. As you would say, it can't hold powers or whatever."

She turned to him.

"I know it's just a song, but I can still... Let's not talk about that anymore."

"Ever? About..."

"Your fake death, yeah."

"No, what were you gonna say?"

"It's gonna sound silly."

They stopped at a red light, and he looked at her. She was staring straight ahead.

"This can count as your secret if you want."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah." He paused. "But I still wanna know what's in that metallic box."

"Of course you do." She laughed softly. She took a deep breath and let it out. "I can still hear the exact moment you get shot every time I hear that song."

He wanted to take her minds off things. He wanted to make her laugh.

"Too bad I got shot before I could hear the ending, though. You sounded great."

_Was that a chuckle?_

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

That comment wasn't even funny. _It's his tone, _she understood. _The way he says things makes them funny._

"You really belted it out. You were... What was it that kids called it back in the day? _Rad?_"

Her smile grew larger. He knew she was trying to hold back.

"So rad, in fact, when I got shot, I was on my way up on stage."

"Shut up," she said, finally cracking up.

"Really! People think I took a bullet for you, but I just wanted to have fun, like the girls."

She looked at him.

"That's not funny."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I have no idea. Probably because days are longer in England."

He smiled too. And added, "You really were something else. You were... really beautiful."

She shivered.

"Stunning, even."

She looked at him. He was serious.

"And happy. You got me amazed. If it really had been the last image I had in mind before dying, I would have been okay," he concluded.

"_That _is not funny," she protested.

"It's wasn't meant to be."

* * *

As they got closer and closer to the entrance of the pub, Booth slowed down. Enough for Brennan to notice.

"You okay?" she asked.

He stopped.

"Will you be okay?" he asked in return.

"What are you talking about?"

He tilted his head towards the pub. She got his drift. And shifted on her feet.

"Are you scared?" she almost murmured.

He laughed. She recognized that laugh. His shield laugh.

"You haven't set foot in a bar since the shooting," she pointed out.

"Neither have you, I suppose."

Before silence could set in, she said,

"Any British stalker I should know about?"

He smiled and shook his head.

"Then we'll be fine."

_We._

They entered the pub. The place was too small, the music was too loud, it was sticky and smelled like sweat and aftershave.But there was no stage and no piano.They looked at each other and knew they were okay. Brennan made her way through the customers.

"How do we recognize the two agents we have to meet?" she asked Booth, who was right behind her.

He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned near her ear to cover the music. She tried to ignore his warm breath on her skin.

"Let me find a table. They'll find us."

"How?"

"It's easier for them to find two Americans in a British crowd than it is for us to find two Brits... Watch it!"

A drunken idiot bumped into Booth's back, making him jerk forward. Pressed flat against Brennan's back, he held on to her shoulders to steady himself. She turned around.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," he said, looking for the man who had pushed him. He spotted an empty table. "Over there. Let's go."

But before they could move, it was Brennan's turn to get pushed. She bumped onto his chest. Booth wasn't steady on his feet and tipped backwards. She grabbed his shoulders to stabilize him, but he was too heavy. His back hit a wall.

"Ow," he hissed through his teeth.

Pressed against him by the fall, she let her hands trail down his arms.

"That's it. I definitely hate pubs," he said.

She was so close, his groin was pressing onto her. He put his palms on her hips, carefully, to push her away, but someone chose that moment to walk behind Brennan, so she had to push herself even further onto him. Wanting to avoid contact, she squirm, but his thigh slid between her legs. Flustered, she moved again and involuntarily rubbed herself on him.

Booth seemed to get tense, all of a sudden. She saw his jaw clenching and his eyes shifting to the ceiling. She recognized the warm sensation of arousal in her own lower body. Dying a little, she brought her hands to his chest and pushed herself off of him.

"Let's sit before one of us ends up in the hospital." _A mental hospital._

They finally reached the table. Booth took the menu, which was shaped like a cow.

"I wonder if they have cheeseburgers. Yes! There's a cheeseburger here with my name on it."

"Where? Who writes names on cheeseburgers?" she asked, stealing the menu from him to see for herself.

He chuckled.

"It's a figure of speech, Bones. Though, it'd be so cool. '_I'll have a Seeley Booth, please.'_"

"With a side of fries," she added.

"And a...

"Piece of pie," they said in unison.

They laughed as the waitress, cute blonde, arrived to take their order. When she left, Booth said,

"I can't wait for this day to be over so we can get drunk."

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like being drunk."

"Because you lose control," he said, knowingly.

"No. Because of the headache that follows," she rectified.

He was about to explain how not to get a headache – two Tylenols and a bottle of water before going to sleep- when they heard a man and a woman arguing loudly entering the premises.

"I told you I should drive! Now the bloody car is dented," the man said.

"Maybe if you'd stop blithering on and on while I drive, I could park more easily," the woman replied, not looking at him.

"See?" Brennan told Booth. "He let her drive."

"See?" he echoed. "He shouldn't have."

The man and the woman sat at the bar, near the partners. They heard the man ask the woman,

"Slice of pound cake today?"

"I wish you'd stop asking, already. It's getting old," she replied.

Booth smirked. Pie is so much better than pound cake.

Their order arrived and Booth stopped the waitress.

"Excuse me, do you have any ketchup?"

Then the woman at the bar turned to them. She hit her friend on the arm and they both came their way.

"Are you the Americans we are supposed to meet here?" she asked them.

Brennan frowned. How did she know?

"Hi," Booth said. "Special Agent Seeley Booth. This is..."

"Dr Temperance Brennan," she said for herself. They shook hands.

"I'm Detective Inspector Brendan. This is my partner, Detective Inspector Boone."

They all sat together and talked about the victim for a while. Until Brendan and Boone started bickering again.

"I've been stuck with her for over three years now," Inspector Boone said.

"Same here," Booth let out.

The two women turned to their respective partners, offended.

"Lighten up! I'm kidding," the detective told Brendan.

"Don't gimme that look, you're stuck with me, too," Booth said.

"That's true," Brennan agreed.

They all looked at each other. On each side of the table, the man had his arm on the back of his partner's chair. It was like staring in a mirror.

"So!" Booth chipped in. "You said something about the victim having a partner, too?"

"Yes," Brendan confirmed. "Her name is Leslie Walkins. She lives on Springfield Road in Westminster. She was his partner for two and a half years before she learned he was undercover with the FBI. He was killed three days after."

"That gotta hurt," Booth said.

"Getting killed?" Brennan asked.

"Learning your partner lied to you for nearly three years," the British inspector said.

Inspector Brendan's phone rang. She excused herself and left the table.

"I saw them snog, once," Boone added.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan said.

"Snogging, Bones," Booth said. "Kissing passionately."

"How do you know that?" she asked him.

He shrugged. He probably knew every term used for kissing.

"Well, I have to get back to work. Lovely meeting you both. Good luck with the case."

The Detective Inspector left money on the table and shook their hands goodbye.

"Wow," Booth finally let out.

"What?"

"You didn't notice anything?" he asked, surprised.

"What?" she said again.

"They are _us_."

She frowned.

"Huh?"

"They are our British equivalent."

"I don't understand."

"Come on! Look at their names: Boone and Brendan?"

"They have similar surnames, yes. How does that translate into being _us_?"

Booth turned his chair to face her and counted each similarity with his fingers.

"They bicker about who's driving, he offers her British pie..."

"Pound cake is _not_ British pie, Booth."

He ignored her comment.

"...and they've been partner for three years."

If you ignored the fact that the woman was neither a genius nor a forensic anthropologist, he was right.

"Ok. What do you say we go see that Walkins woman right now so we have the rest of the evening free?"

They both got up and went to the bar to get the check. As Booth paid for them both, Brennan noticed a couple making out against the back wall.

"Booth," she tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. "Is that snorkelling?"

"_Snogging,_ Bones..." he said looking where she was discretely pointing to.

"Wow, definite snogging."

They both stared at the couple. _That's hot._Brennan realized she was holding her breath. She glanced at Booth for a millisecond and licked her lips nervously.

Booth's eyes caught her tongue wetting her lips. He quickly looked back to the ones getting it on against the wall. _That's hot. _The coupleparted lips to catch a breath and Booth and Brennan saw their faces.

"Oh."

"Whoa."

"I guess they're not us after all..." Brennan said.

"Yeah. We don't do that yet."

_Yet? Yet?_

"Yet?" she repeated, looking at him, heart pounding.

"What?"

"Why did you say _yet_?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'we don't do that _yet_'."

"No I didn't."

"You did."

"Why would I say that?"

"I don't know that's why I'm asking."

"I didn't say _yet._"

"You did."

"Why do you want me to have said _yet?_"

"I don't want you to... You said it."

"Do you have any indisputable evidence?" he asked.

Other than her stomach twisting? No.

"Then you can't prove I said something you wanted to hear."

"I didn't want to... You..."

She decided to let it go. It was getting confusing.

Booth held the door open for Brennan. As she walked past him, she whispered,

"You said _yet._"

_I know. _He winced. Good thing she wasn't looking.

--

TBC... Next up: Murder suspect to Booth, grieving partner to Brennan. AND... of course London has no room available for Booth to spend the night in.


	8. The Line and the Lemon

Chapter Eight  
THE LINE AND THE LEMON

Leslie Walkins' apartment looked like an ad in a magazine. Everything was perfectly in place, it was clean... too clean for Booth's taste. The woman herself was well dressed and her makeup was perfect. You would never be able to tell she was supposed to be grieving. Booth didn't like this at all. She hadn't even taken a day off of work.

"Inspector Walkins..." he started, putting his cup of tea directly on the table next to the couch.

"Call me Leslie," the woman said, getting up. She lifted the cup, wiped the table under it and put a coaster before setting it back down.

_Freak,_ Booth thought.

"Leslie," he started again. "We were told you and agent Fielding were... romantically involved at some point."

The woman didn't even flinch.

"No," she said. "We kissed once..."

"Snogged?" Brennan chipped in. She loved that word.

"Shh, Bones," Booth told her, putting a hand on her knee.

She stared at it, waiting for him to take his hand off. But he didn't. She lifted his hand and set it on his own lap.

"We did. Once. But we weren't like that. We were mostly professional."

"Mostly professional?" Booth repeated. "What do you mean?"

"We were close friends. But we never crossed that line."

Brennan looked at Booth. But he was looking at her too so she pretended to look behind him before staring back to the floor.

Leslie got up and took the laundry basket full of clean clothes to bring it to the couch, where she started to fold her towels.

"You were close friends. And he didn't tell you about his undercover assignment?" Booth pushed her.

"He did. Three days before he died."

"And... how long had you two been partners?" Booth continued.

"Two years and a half."

"So..."

Leslie interrupted Booth.

"I'll make some more tea, yeah?"

And she fled to the kitchen.

Booth's jaw dropped. He looked at Brennan, trying not to laugh.

"She's weird!" he said.

Brennan didn't answer. She had found a picture of Leslie and her dead partner. In the picture, Leslie was looking up to the man in such a way that Brennan understood.

"She's got motive, too," Booth told her.

"What motive?" Brennan asked, out of it.

"He lied to her for almost three years!" he insisted. "That had to piss her off."

"There's no way in hell she killed him."

Booth gasped.

"Let me talk to her," Brennan said.

"Did you just say 'hell'?"

"Let me talk to her," she said again, growing impatient.

"And what is this? A gut feeling?" he teased her.

If a look could hurt, he'd definitely have a black eye with that one.

"Fine! Suit yourself. You'll never get anything out of her. She's a robot."

But he watched his partner as she went to the kitchen. He could see them, but he could not hear.

Brennan rarely went for physical contact when she interacted with others. But there was something about this woman that touched her deeply. She put a hand on Leslie's shoulder. Leslie turned to her. She knew that smile. That empty smile. She had put it on for two whole weeks.

She turned to Booth.

"You see that man?" she softly asked Leslie. "He's been my partner for three years."

She studied the woman's face as the word 'partner' sank in. The woman blinked once. Then twice.

"A few weeks ago, he died on me. Well, not really, evidently, as he is right there, but... he did. For two weeks. He had a funeral and everything."

The woman tensed. Brennan continued.

"The need to work? The need to clean? The urge to put everything in order?"

Leslie's eyes were shiny as she blinked... and blinked... forcing the tears away.

"I know," Brennan whispered, her voice cracking. She sighed, her eyes shiny too. "He _died_ on you."

Leslie finally let it out. She collapsed in Brennan's arms and a scream coming from the deepest of her being came out. Like a tortured animal. It shook Brennan's insides. And she let the woman cry. She let the woman cry the tears she had denied to herself.

--

"What did you say to her?" Booth asked, curious, as they left the apartment.

"I don't know," Brennan replied. "You want to get drunk now?" she said.

Booth laughed.

"You said hated being drunk."

She shrugged.

"What the hell, right? We only live once."

"Or twice," Brennan mumbled, getting into the car.

As they entered her apartment, Brennan threw her jacket on the couch while Booth set the bottle of tequila they had just bought on the coffee table. She went to the kitchenette to get salt and to cut the lemons.

Booth stood behind her. That kitchen was small.

"I doubt you have shot glasses here..." he said, reaching up to the cupboards. He took two mugs.

She hated tequila. But it was the only alcohol in the store they could find. And her mind was set. Tonight, she was getting crashed. _Or is it trashed?_ She didn't remember.

They sat down next to each other. And started drinking. He tried to explain to her the concept of fantasy football, but she didn't quite understand the importance of it and he changed the subject before his annoyance turned to anger.

After 8 shots, they were both starting to get seriously loopy.

"Please stop making me laugh!" she begged him, leaning back on the couch, holding her stomach.

"I can't help it, you're easy!"

"I'm not easy!" she differed, with an offended tone.

He smirked at the sexual innuendo.

"Are you sure?"

She gasped. "Take your mind off the butter!" she yelped.

He had never laughed that hard.

"The _gutter, _Bones! Ha! Aw man..."

"I'm a woman, you know," she rectified.

"Oh, I know..." he mumbled.

Another shot.

"You know how they call breasts in British slang?" he asked.

She pointed a finger at him. "You said 'breast' without blushing! Congracu... Contratu.. Congrats."

"They call them 'milkers'."

She frowned.

"Why are you talking about breasts?"

"Because," he said. "I don't know."

She sat up straighter.

"I haven't had sexual intercourse in more than a year," she confessed, out of the blue.

He blushed then. And threw back another shot. Then chocked on it. "Was that another secret?"

"No. Angela knows."

"Of course."

"How long has it been for you? Are you getting any?" she asked, bluntly.

He knew it was the Tequila thinking for him. But damn, she was gorgeous.

"I'm not drunk enough to talk to you about this," he answered.

She poured tequila in her cup and handed it to him.

"Drink up!" she ordered.

He stared at her, eyes widened.

"Are you flirting with me?" he asked, his voice croaking.

She pondered. "I don't think so."

She brought her cup back to her.

"Was I?" she asked.

"I think so..." he nodded.

"Oh."

She drank. He smiled at her.

"Stop giving me that smile! " she pleaded.

"What smile?"

"The charming one."

He laughed. And smile again.

"Stooop. It's not fair..." she hit him on the arm.

"What's not fair?" he wanted to know.

"I don't have a smile like that. So I can't use it against you." _In a court of law,_ she added in her head. And she laughed at her joke.

"You don't need it, trust me," he said.

That conversation was getting weirder and weirder. They started to shift in their seats. _I think that's the tension Angela was talking about. Maybe I should ask him... NO! Brennan, you better shut up._

"I hate tequila," she admitted.

He wondered... was he drunk enough to say what he was about to say?

"I know a way to drink it that you might like..."

"How?" she asked.

What the heck, it was only a game.

"Alright." He sat closer to her. Their knees brushed.

She brought her hand on her lap. She wasn't thinking, really. Her hand was. And it slid down her thigh, up to her knee. Ever so slowly. So he wouldn't notice. And her fingers lightly touched the fabric of his jeans. Just the fabric, not the leg itself. Her hand was trembling a little.

"You're gonna..." He felt the tip of her fingers burning his knee. His heart pounding, his pushed his leg a little closer to her own leg. She wouldn't notice. "You're gonna lick the salt on my hand. Then you're gonna drink the shot. And bite on the lemon."

_Lick his large, sexy hand?_ Her eyes wandered on his hand.

"...What about the line?" she said, with a low voice. Her fingers were getting a little adventurous. And they slid, still only on the fabric, a little higher on his thigh.

"Not the lime," he said. "The lemon."

Of course that wasn't lime. Lime was green. That was yellow.

"You're right," she said, wracking her brain to understand why she had said 'lime'. Had she said 'lime'?

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded. And watched him slowly lick his own hand.

"I thought I was the one supposed to do that," she said.

He laughed and put salt on his wet skin.

"Oh." She understood.

They were not supposed to do that. They didn't care, really. They locked eyes. He held his hand up to her mouth. She took his wrist to steady it and, still looking into his eyes, which seemed strangely darker than usual, she darted her tongue out.

This was the most sensual vision he had ever had. She traced a circle with her tongue on his skin before licking on it once.

She drank her shot, her eyelids tight shut as she shivered the taste off. When she opened them, she looked for the lemon... it was between his lips.

_Oh._

She approached her fingers, but he shook his head.

"But..."

He raised an eyebrow.

_Oh God._

He encouraged her with a nod.

_It's ok. He's actually allowing you to. So come on._

She took a shaky breath and leaned in. Her eyes closed, she bit on the fruit, concentrating on the warmth of his lips on hers. She leaned into him, and lingered there longer than she had planned. She took her teeth off of the lemon.

He smile and chuckled. She was supposed to take the lemon off his mouth, not leave it there. He made a sound and pointed to it.

_Again?_

She frowned. That was one weird exciting game...

He gave up on her understanding and took the fruit between his fingers.

"You were not supposed to leave it there."

"Oh."

"My turn," he said.

_Again?_

She wasn't sure how long she could take this. But she had had her turn. He had a right to one, too.

She went to lick her hand.

"No," he said, gently pulling her hand away. "Not there."

Things were already going to be weird tomorrow. What was the harm in going a little further? He still had her hand in his. He didn't let go. She didn't pull it away.

"Where? My foot?"

He laughed. _Thanks, Bones. _He shook his head. His eyes studied her face. She was nervous. _We are holding hands._ They trailed down her throat, and lingered on her cleavage.

"My milkers?!" she almost yelled, and yanked her hand off his grip.

He laughed out loud.

_God, yes!_

"God, no!"

She sighed, relieved.

He pointed to her neck. She frowned.

"How am I supposed to lick my neck?"

He smiled and brought his hand to her cheek. Softly, he lifted her hair, exposing her perfect neckline. And he leaned in. She instantly closed her eyes and sighed in silence. At the contact of his breath on her skin, she shivered and tilted her head to give him better access. She dug the tip of her fingers into his thighs as he licked her flesh, slowing, tasting it.

Her fingers pressing into his legs, he heard a faint moan escaping her lips. He felt his pants getting tighter.

He brushed her hair behind her ear, giving her a trail of goosebumps, and salted the spot on her neck.

She felt the wetness between her legs as his tongue rolled over her neck. She tried not to move, but her body was out of control. And she rubbed herself once, imperceptibly, onto the couch. He licked again, pressed his lips onto her skin and bit lightly. She bit her lip not to cry out.

_This should be illegal,_ she thought as he drank the shot, head back.

He put one hand over hers on his thigh and pressed it while his other hand made its way through her hair to the back of her head. And he pulled her as he leaned in to catch her lips. Taking his lower lip between hers, she dropped the lemon, which was still in her hand, onto the couch, and sighed into his mouth. Breathing in at the same time, they deepened the kiss and she felt the tip of his tongue caressing her lips for entrance. She opened her mouth, meeting his tongue with hers. _Mmm. _Then, out of breath, they slowly broke away.

Her face was completely flushed. She knew her lips were swollen. They didn't look at each other. Booth still had his eyes closed and Brennan was staring at the lemon on the couch.

"We forgot the lime," he said after a while.

"Yeah. The lemon, too," she stated, throwing the unused fruit on the table. They both watched it bounce to the floor.

She was fighting not to lick her lips. She was sure they tasted like salt, lemon, and Booth.

_It's only a game. But you're done playing. _

"I was wondering..." she broke the silence, "...why agent Boone and Bre..."

"Inspector."

"Why inspector Boone and Brendan..."

Those names, mixed with tequila, were hilarious.

"That's such stupid ugly names!" Booth laughed.

"Yeah! We're so much better," she said.

"To the original set!"

They high fived.

After their laughter died down, she started again, "But why don't agent Boone and Bren..."

"Inspector," he said again.

"Right. Inspector Boone and Brendan..." She didn't remember what she wanted to say.

"Why did they what?"

"I... Oh, yeah! Why were they allowed to slog."

"Snog."

"To snog. There's no line in London?" she asked.

_I guess not._

After another moment of silence, Brennan said, "Maybe we should stop drinking."

"Good idea," he agreed. He got up to put the bottle, which was ¾ empty, in the freezer.

As soon as he was out of sight, Brennan let out the longest sigh she had ever let out. And she buried her face into her palms. "Oh, God. Oh, God..." she mumbled.

_Okay, on the count of three, you're gonna get up and be yourself again. 1, 2, 3._

She got up. But didn't feel any different. He came back to the living room.

"Where are you staying?" she asked.

"Here..." he said.

Her heart stopped. But then she relaxed.

"Oh. What floor?"

"This one."

She laughed. Thought it was not funny.

"You're on the same fl..."

"I'm staying _here_," he clarified.

"What?! No! You can't."

"I have to! There are no hotel rooms available in the area. Plus, I drank to much, I can't drive."

"That's why God invented taxi cabs," she said.

"God did not invent taxi cabs."

"Right. Because God doesn't ex..."

He stopped her, raising a hand.

"Stop right there. We're having such a nice evening, don't ruin it."

She hesitated. "You had a nice evening?"

He took in all her beauty.

"Yes."

"Me too. Nonetheless, you can't stay here," she said.

"I told you, there are no hotel room..."

"I'll find you one," she said.

She found the phonebook and her cell phone and sat back on the couch, dialling a number. He sat next to her. She distanced herself from him.

"Yes, hi, hello!" she said into the phone.

Booth tried not to laugh. She sounded really drunk when she was trying not to.

"I was wondering a question."

_That sounded smart._

"Would you have a room for Booth?"

His muffled his chuckled with his fist and she threw the phonebook at him.

"He's usually really nice. He's... Right... I understand... Yeah. Thanks for nothing. For trying, I mean."

She hung up.

"Are you gonna call every hotel in the city?" he asked.

"This is a single room!"

"And we're both single... when we're not dating gay guys."

"There are no extra blankets here," she explained.

He started at her. He was exhausted. He wanted to sleep. And he knew exactly how to get her to agree. A little trick he had learned from Sweets. Reverse psychobabble.

"I get it. If you're attracted to me as you said so yourself in the questionnaire, I understand why you don't want to share a huge bed with me..."

She squinted her eyes.

"I know what you're doing. You're saying that so I let you sleep with me. In the bed. I mean, in the bed, too, you know. Not sleep with..."

"Relax, Bones. We're adults."

"You sure?" she asked under her breath.

_Not really..._

"Fine," she finally said.

She got up, and went to the bedroom. He went to the bathroom. Quickly. Trying to make this look like it was no big deal.

While he was away, she changed into a tank top and some loose pants. Then she stared at the bed. _Crap._ She sighed.

Booth came into the bedroom, wearing only his jeans. He saw what she had done on the bed. She had put all the pillows in the middle, forming a line to separate them. He laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. If you think this is gonna help you restrain yourself..."

"It's not for me!" she said. "It's for you."

He shook his head, laughing again. She stared at his pants. That didn't look comfortable.

"You're gonna sleep in your jeans?"

"You want me to take them off?" he asked, challenging her.

"No! Well... You... Do whatever you want."

She turned the light off and hopped into bed. She heard him. _His taking his pants off. Shit._ She felt the mattress move under his weight. They sighed at the same time.

_This is not weird at all, _they thought, on their respective side of the fluffy pillow line.

--

TBC ... Dont worry! The night is not over! But after 3000 words, as much as I love you all, I had to stop. My fingers hurt. Please review! Ok?


	9. Pretend, Avoid, Survive

**A.N.: Thanks for letting me know you're still reading! **

Chapter Nine  
PRETEND, AVOID, SURVIVE

She was in bed with Booth. _Booth._ When had he become this sexual magnet? Maybe sometime after the 7th or 8th shot. She had a perfect alpha-male specimen next to her. And it was Booth. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, and tried not to move. Maybe if they both stayed really still, they would forget they were both there. Under the same covers.

He was in bed with Bones. _Bones._ When had he let himself flirt with her like a huge imbecile? Maybe after the 7th or 8th shot. He had a gorgeous woman, one he was drooled over in secret for more than three years, in bed with him. And he wasn't allowed to do anything. Clenching his teeth, he wished sleeping would make her forget he had pushed the boundaries tonight.

If she put aside the fact that she was drowning in sexual frustration, she had had fun tonight. More fun than she had in... years. _How's that possible? My life is fun. _Thinking about Leslie, she could still hear the sound of her pain. Brennan didn't believe in God. But she thanked him anyway. Her partner was still here. More than ever. He was still alive, funny, protective, strong. He was there for her. All the time. She turned her head to look at him, but her nose met the pillow line.

"Booth?" she whispered. Maybe he was sleeping already.

The pillow moved a little. Then it flew across the room. Booth turned to her, his head on one of his arm.

"Mmh?"

She studied his features. She knew him by heart. She didn't understand him fully, but she knew him. And that made her feel good.

"I'm really... really happy you're not dead."

"Me too," he whispered.

She realized then that he really had been afraid of dying.

"Thank you," she let out softly.

"For what?"

"Dancing in front of the bullet for me."

He chuckled.

"You're welcome," he said. "You would dance for me too."

Their eyes met in the dark.

"Yeah, I would."

Wrapped in silence, they both searched for something to say. Booth found first.

"Your voice is funny when you're drunk."

"You're not laughing," she refuted.

"No! Not funny 'haha', funny meaning... uhm... what's the word?"

"Hilarious?"

"Yeah." Then he frowned. "No."

He looked at her. She was confusing him. He noticed she didn't look comfortable without a pillow under her head. She was twisting her neck to find a good position.

"You know what? This is ridiculous," he said. He sat down and took the pillows between them. He gave her one and put two on his side.

"Hey! But..."

"Look, pretend we're in a car, ok? A tiny car, during a stakeout."

"Does that mean you're gonna talk all night?"

"Meaning, we're stuck in the same space, ok? This doesn't need to be weird."

She tried his suggestion. But...

"How do you see this bed as a car, Booth?"

"Just... pretend, Bones."

"Who's under surveillance?"

"What?"

"If this is a stakeout, who are we staking out?"

He put a pillow over his head. She heard a muffled "Never mind." Then he threw it on the floor and placed his one pillow properly under his head.

"You know," she said. "In the questionnaire, I never said I wanted to sleep with you. I said... you were attractive. Which, from an objective point of view, you know yourself you are."

Booth laughed. "Nah, nah. You can't get out of this one, Bones. The question was 'Are you attracted to your partner."

_Oh._

"I read it wrong then."

"You don't read wrong, missy."

"Oh."

She couldn't find anything to say to help herself. So she shut up. As she went to turn her back to him and find some sleep, he whispered,

"Temperance?"

The butterflies Angela always referred to made their way inside her, tickling the pit of her stomach. She felt naked. She probably blushed but the darkness of the night covered it up.

"Wow, that was weird," she murmured.

"What?"

"You. Calling me 'Temperance'. In bed."

They both chuckled like little kids.

"Tempe?"

She laughed. "No, don't call me that. That's just wrong."

"Why? People call you 'Tempe'."

"You don't."

He brought his face closer, an inch separating their noses.

"Bones?" he whispered again, lower. Sexier.

_If the Devil exist, he's right there, in your face._

Her lips parted. If he didn't back off in 5 steamboats, she'd kiss him. 1... 2... 3... 4...

His eyes danced on her parted lips.

5... Let's say 7 steamboats, then. 6...

"What's in the metallic mystery box?" he whispered.

She laughed and breathed out at the same time, turning her back to him.

"G'night, Booth."

"Night."

* * *

The mother of all headaches woke her up. Her eyelids were glued shut. She felt trapped, like she was under a ton of bricks. It took her a while to realize it was only Booth's arm wrapped around her.

...

... ...

... ... ... _What?!_

Her back was turned to him. She was holding his hand, his forearm pressed against her chest, his fingers against her lips. She stopped breathing. Her eyes now wide open, she willed herself not to move. She needed to pee. Badly. But she didn't want to move. Firstly, because it would probably wake him up, and she was not ready for the awkwardness yet. Secondly, because this felt good. Seriously good.

He was spooning her. One of his leg was slid between hers, their feet tangled up. Her feet were always cold. Not this morning.

She heard him sigh in his sleep and she let him pull her closer. Perfect match. She felt his slow and steady breath in her hair, near her neck. _Mmm..._ God! She had to pee.

Booth woke up and realized he was holding her really tightly against him. Hoping she was still sleeping, he wondered what to do. Pretending to be still fast asleep, he mumbled and sighed, detached himself from her and turned to his other side, freeing her.

She thanked him inwardly, though part of her felt disappointed. And she pretended to wake up.

"Booth?" she said. Her mouth was so dry, she could hardly talk at all. "Oh, God..." she painfully let out, holding her forehead.

"My thoughts exactly," she heard him grumble. He had forgotten the Tylenols and the water yesterday.

"Shit," Brennan whined.

He couldn't help but chuckle every time she said a word like that.

"It's not funny."

"I know."

"Fuck," she whined again.

"Whoa there! Too early for cursing," he warned her.

"At what time can I start?" she asked.

"..." He only moaned his headache out.

"We sound pathetic..." she stated. "Time to get up."

"Nahhhh." He turned on his chest, ready to fall asleep again.

"Booth... Come on! You gave me that headache, you pay for it too."

"Fine..." He sat up, rubbed his eyes. He realized it was quite bright outside. "Let's go eat."

"What? Noooo... Eww. I think I'm gonna be sick."

He looked at her. Was it legal for a woman to be that beautiful when hung over?

"No you're not," he said.

"Promise?" _Yuk. I feel like shit._

He got up, fumbled on his feet, then walked to her. He took her by the shoulders, spun her around and pushed her out of the bedroom.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?" she asked in a tiny voice.

He walked her to the bathroom.

"Stay there," he said.

She didn't answer. She didn't move. When he came back, he had two glasses of what looked like water.

"Thanks," she said, taking one. She brought it to her lips but the smell nearly made her sick.

"That's not water," she noticed.

"It's Tequila."

She looked at him like he was the craziest man alive. Like he just had tried to kill her.

"Is it supposed to make me laugh," she asked, "or throw up?"

"It's supposed to make you feel better."

"I can't drink this."

"Not the whole thing. Take a sip."

She stared at him blankly, eyebrows frowned.

"One sip," he repeated, pushing on her glass. "Come on, cry baby."

"Huh huh," she shook her head no.

"Don't you trust me?"

_That's not fair, _she thought. She sighed and brought a drop of the disgusting liquid to her lips. Her nose wrinkled .

"That's not a sip," Booth said.

"Yes it was!"

"Come on. Do it with me."

They both took the biggest sip they could. Couching and shivering, wincing, she held her tongue out and gave him the glass back.

"Feeling any better?" he asked her.

"Yeah, right," she said, entering the bathroom and shutting the door in his face.

She was taking an awfully long time in the shower. He made fresh orange juice, made up the bed and snooped around. He found her computer and decided to take advantage of the wireless internet access to check his emails. Parker was supposed to have sent him a bunch of photos he had taken himself.

He brought the laptop to the living room and turned it on. Her email connected automatically. She had 12 new messages. _Wow. She's popular!_ And there were three from Sully. It took everything he had not to open them. He didn't even know she had kept in touch with him. His gut didn't like it at all. Then he saw there was one from Angela. The object was: "Mr Big in London". He had no idea what that meant. Maybe she meant Big Ben. That clock was way over rated.

He shut her email window down. She had a folder opened. One document was called "untitled". Bones always titled her documents. She was a freak when it came to naming files. So it made him curious... He looked behind his shoulder. The bathroom door was still closed. He could hear the hair dryer. _She has a lot of hair. It will take a while._ He opened it, his heart racing. His conscience torturing him. He was about to change his mind when he spotted the words "hardening member". He thought he had read wrong. He did all the time. But then he spotted the word "nipple". His throat went dry. He nervously glanced at the bathroom door again. And started reading from the begging.

_Why did he have to say he was a miracle in bed?  
He didn't actually say it like that. What was it exactly?  
Anyway.  
His voice was low; his eyes were full of promises.  
He had taken a step, sneaked in further. _

_Hold his gaze while his shirt fall to the floor,  
fingers softly grazing his torso.  
Beg for his touch. Caress his lips.  
Remember every detail.  
Taste his mouth, slowly, hungrily.  
Hold his hips, pelvis grinding onto his hardening member.  
Feel the heat of wet exaltation.  
Show him what you want.  
Undo his funny belt buckle, slide your hand lower.  
Cup him fully in your palm.  
A moan, a whisper, a kiss.  
Press him harder.  
His tongue on your exposed nipple_

Booth looked for the rest... Nothing. It stopped there. He took a deep breath. His erection would not go away easily this time. He had managed to hide it last night, but this was... This was gonna be one heck of a book. Even thought the tone was not really the same as the previous ones. _Who cares?_ He tried to think of something else.

"Booth?" he heard right behind him. Startled, he went to shut down the laptop screen, but knocked his glass and the orange juice spilled onto the floor.

Brennan looked at the screen. Her eyes widened in horror. _Oh my God. This is not happening._

There was nothing he could do now. He could lie and say he hadn't read anything, but one look at his pants, and she would know for sure he had. He went to the kitchen to get something to wipe the floor. He had never been more embarrassed in his entire life.

"How could you... You had no right!"

He had never seen her this angry. Ok, maybe he had, but he felt horrible.

"I'm sorry..."

"How much did you read?"

There. He could say he had read the first line. Or...

"All of it?"

Agape, she avoided his eyes.

She thought she had deleted this stupid text. Angela had told her writing her thoughts might help defusing her hormones. Of course, it hadn't worked. She had felt foolish. And she was sure she had erased it.

There was nothing she could do now. It was out. She would have to get over it. At least his name wasn't mentioned anywhere. She had felt way too stupid to type his name. That, she remembered.

"Do we have to talk about this?" she asked him.

"What? No! Of course not. I've read your books before."

_My books?_ He thought this was her new book? Relieved beyond words, she said, "Ok, then."

They would never talk about this. Ever again. She would put something resembling this in her next book. Crisis averted.

"I'll... uhm... just..." he stuttered.

"Yeah."

Before she could see his evident arousal, he shut the bathroom door behind him.

_Cold shower it is._

_--_

_TBC... Stay tuned!!_


	10. This Gotta Stop

**A.N. Thanks to all of you who take time to review. It seriously helps me update!**

Chapter Ten  
THIS GOTTA STOP

They had eaten breakfast in silence. It was unusual for them not to talk, bicker or laugh. But they each had a newspaper section to read so they could pretend nothing was wrong. But when they got into the car, Booth felt helpless.

"Fine!" he said really loudly. "I'm sorry!"

She gave him a questioning look.

"What for?"

"Whatever you're mad at me for."

"I'm not mad at you. I have headache and feel like crap. Yeah, ok. You can be sorry for that."

"So you're not pissed at me?" he checked.

She was. But he would not understand why. The reason was blurry even to her. She was pissed at herself, mostly.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Booth."

"Then why aren't you talking?"

"You're not talking either. And I enjoy silence. Particularly this morning."

"I hate silence. You know that."

"Then turn on the radio!" she said.

He turned it on.

"I'm sorry for making us play that tequila drinking game..." he said after another 5 minutes of nothing to say.

She brushed it off. "That was nothing." _Oh, really?_ "You didn't make me do anything. We were drunk, and it was fun."

"Then why are you acting so weird with me?" he asked.

"Would you stop already?!" she begged him.

"Fine."

He stepped on the break and swerved to park on the side of the road.

"I didn't mean stop the car!" she interjected.

"You never shut up usually. And I like that."

"I have nothing to say this morning, that's all. It happens."

"Is it because I read that thing on your computer?" he asked.

_YES! THAT'S WHY. YOU HAD NO RIGHT. I NEVER WANTED ANYONE TO SEE THAT. ESPECIALLY NOT YOU, _she thought.

Fed up, furious and about to explode, she got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

"Wha..." Booth tied to get out too, but his seatbelt was stuck.

Brennan kicked some rocks around. Calmer, she leaned back on the car, arms wrapped around herself. _This needs to stop. You're a woman, he's a man. This is completely natural. The fact that you're trying to ignore your attraction is making it worse. It's not healthy. Just tell him. Tell him you want to fuck the hell out of him. But don't use those words._

Booth finally got out of the car. He stood next to her and folded his arms too.

"I don't want things to change between us," Booth confessed.

She looked up, at his face. He had his dramatic face on. His eyes met hers. She needed him by her side. Sleeping with him would change things. Definitely. _I know sex and emotions don't have to be related. He doesn't. _But their relationship, whatever it was, was more important than anything.

"I don't want things to change either."

"Good. So let me ask you one thing," he said.

_That doesn't sound good._

"What?"

"That wasn't your new book, was it?"

She didn't answer. Which kind of answered.

"What was it about?"

"Sex, mostly."

He laughed. "No, I got that. Was it about... me?"

For one second, she was tempted to say yes. But she read some kind of fear in his eyes.

"God! You're so conceited."

"Hey! Weirder things have happened..." he said.

"It wasn't about you."

"Was it about... Sully?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"Sully?" she repeated, confused. "Why would it be about Sully?"

"I don't know..."

"It wasn't about anyone specific. It was just some notes I took."

He looked at her. And made a joke attempt.

"Like a to-do list?"

She laughed, but didn't answer. They were both breathing a little easier now that things were clear. Or seemed to be.

"You're just feeling weird because you held me in bed this morning," she said. She looked at his reaction to make sure she hadn't gone too far.

His blushed.

"Oh. You noticed that?"

"It was too hard not to notice."

She hadn't intended for it to sound so dirty.

"Can I drive?" she asked, not really expecting anything. Mostly to start an argument to keep her minds off the topic.

He handed her the key.

She looked at him, in shock.

"You do feel sorry! I should let you hold me more often."

_Did I just say that?_

_You _let_ me? _

* * *

They arrived at the Bed & Breakfast where they were to meet the owner. The victim had been reported staying here a week prior to the murder.

"Wow," Booth said, taking his sunglasses off, casing the building. "This could be Hansel's and Gretel's house."

"I didn't know you had friends in London..."

"Hansel and Gretel are not my friends," he said, noticing how incredibly stupid that sounded.

"Then who..."

"Hey there," a big voice interrupted them. They turned to the front door and saw a big man in the doorway. He didn't look like a B&B owner at all.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, this is Dr Temperance Brennan. We're here to meet a Mr..."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on in!"

The man disappeared, leaving the door open. They both entered the house and Booth almost shivered in disgust. This was bringing the term "English cottage charm" to a whole new level. Flower patterns were everywhere. _I bet the toilet paper is flowered too._

"One of us should stay here tonight," Brennan said. "I'm sure there are rooms available. And it's not that far from the subway."

"The tube."

"What tube?"

"That's how they call... Nevermind."

Booth looked around again. He did not want to stay here.

"You can stay if you want," he said.

"Why am I the one who has to stay here? All my stuff is at the apartment."

"Fine! We'll flip for it," he said, taking out his wallet to find a quarter.

"Oh, let me!" she demanded, childlike.

He smiled at her excitement and it to her.

"Ok," she prepared herself. "The one who wins gets the apartment tonight."

"Tails," he called.

Her tip tongue darted out in concentration. And she flipped it. Booth had to duck.

"Oops, sorry."

"It's ok. I must have another one..." He checked his wallet, his pockets... nothing.

"Care for some biscuits?" the big man said.

They followed the man to the back porch, where they sat. He was wearing a dirty –formerly white– t-shirt too small for his size. His pants were stained, too short, and he was wearing boring white socks.

"So, you own this place?" Booth verified.

"Yeah. It was my auntie's business. But she died last year."

"This place is really clean," Brennan stated. "You don't look..."

Booth interrupted her. He had a feeling she was about to say something that would offend the big man.

"You've owned it for a year, then?"

"Yes. I thought about shutting the place down, but I realized it would be money for old rope."

Brennan turned to Booth, about to ask him to rephrase that for her, but Booth shushed her again. He had no clue what the man had just said and he didn't really want her to know. Luckily, the owner wasn't finished talking.

"I'm happy I kept it running. The loads of babes coming through that door... You know what I mean?" he said, snorting really loudly.

"No, I don't," Brennan said flatly.

He looked at her from head to toe. She felt a little uncomfortable.

"Surely you know..."

Booth had had enough. He got up and pulled Brennan's arm for her to do the same.

"Thanks for your time, Mr Brody. We'll be in touch if we really need to."

"Booth! You didn't even ask about the victim..."

"I'll come back later."

"Why?"

"Because you're distracting him," he said.

Before she could protest about this overly protective behaviour, the man said,

"I think you dropped a coin."

Brennan quickly asked him not to touch anything and went to see what side was up.

"Tails," she sighed.

Booth grabbed her arm and pulled. He walked them out in the hallway.

"Wait! You won," she said.

"There's no way in hell you're staying here."

"Why?"

"Why? The creepy guy looks like a sex-offender," he said.

"Aw, come on! What do you base this..."

"I'm not letting you stay here. End of discussion."

"Fine," she said. "You stay here then."

Booth snorted.

"I'm not staying here. This place smells like my grandmother."

Brennan sniffed the air.

"You're grandmother smells like bleach and pine oil?"

"My grandmother's dead. She probably doesn't smell anything anymore."

"Was she cremated?"

"No."

"Then she indubitably smells of putrefaction."

"Thanks, Bones," he said, sarcastically.

* * *

Since they had wasted their time that morning, they got really busy with the case the rest of the day. Around 7 pm, they were done. Case was closed.

"Hey, you wanna celebrate? We could go out," he proposed, as they got out of the car. "A nice dinner for our last night in England?"

Booth didn't know why he was nervous asking her that. They went to dinner all the time. But something was different now.

"Yeah," Brennan said, without thinking.

But then their eyes met. And they both felt the spark.

"Tempe?" a voice called her.

She spun around, recognizing him.

"Mike?"

"Hey!" the guy cheered, before hugging her.

Booth readjusted his belt buckle, and stood up straighter while the two others talked and yelped at the same time. _Who's that creep?_

"Booth? This is Mike Bruski. Mike, this is my partner, Seeley Booth."

"You finally caved into marriage, huh? I knew you would."

"What? No!" Brennan said.

"I'm not... She's... We work together."

"Oh, good for me, then," the guy winked.

Booth searched for Brennan's eyes. But she was in awe, staring at that Mike person.

"Mike and I went to college together," she explained.

_Well, college is over. Now bye, bye, buddy. We have plans tonight._

"This is crazy seeing you here. Can I ask you out?" Mike asked.

"I'm going back to DC tomorrow" she said.

"Are you free tonight then?"

_No. She. Is. Not._

"Tonight? Uhm..."

_An evening filled with sexual tension and awkwardness or an evening with an old friend?_

Brennan didn't even look at Booth before answering.

"Yes."

"Great. I know some great restaurants. Then we could go dancing, or..."

"Sure," she said. "Pick me up here at 8?"

Booth was really uncomfortable. But he had to stay there and watch because she was the one with the key to the apartment. How fast had she agreed to go out with Mike? He didn't want to be, but he was hurt. He had asked her first. And she had already said yes. She couldn't do that. It really wasn't polite.

Mike walked away, not without turning back three times to wave at her. Brennan was still smiling when she dug through her purse to find the apartment key.

"This is so weird! I haven't seen him in ages and we meet in London."

They walked up the stairs.

"You can't date him!" he let out.

"Why? He's not gay..."

"Clearly'" Booth mumbled.

Once in the living room, she turned to him.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"We had plans, that's all."

He looked hurt. She hadn't thought it would hurt him. She had thought of herself. How easy of a solution it was to go out until really late to avoid the weirdness that was still in the air of every room of this place. Go out to give herself a break from the sexual attraction she had for her partner.

He thought maybe she was attracted to him for real. Maybe she was even more than that. For a second he had thought... But he was obviously mistaken.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But we can have dinner any time. Chances are I won't see Mike for..."

"I get it. It's fine."

She went to change while Booth watched TV. When she got out of the bedroom, he automatically got up to his feet. She was...

Her green dress was showing off her silky legs. Her breasts were pressed together, ready to make him have an aneurism.

"Could you..." she asked, pointing to her back.

He licked his lips and walked to her. His fingers were cold against the skin of her back. He zipped her up, watching her skin react to his touch. _Kill me now._

Once he was done, she turned around.

"How do I look?" she asked, avoiding his eyes.

"Sure." He had no idea what she had just said. He had seen her lips move... but kind of slow motion.

"Sure of what?"

"Huh?"

"Am I ok?" she asked, certain now he had not caught her first question.

He could only nod. And trail his eyes all over her.

"When will you be home?" he asked.

_Home. Home?_

She laughed faintly at the image. And shifted on her feet.

"I mean..." he started.

"Yeah. Uhm... You probably shouldn't wait for me."

Good thing she was getting out of there soon. How could Booth not know what the way he looked at her did to her?

--

TBC... Sorry! I know the case was shit ahaha I just didn't want to focus on it. Next chapter, they go back to DC. And things def. get to the next level.


	11. Can't Have the Pie, Can't Taste the Cake

Chapter Eleven (Already!?)  
CAN'T HAVE THE PIE, CAN'T TASTE THE CAKE

It was almost midnight. Why wasn't she back? _You know why, you dumbass. She's having fun. Probably having sex too. Since she hasn't gotten any in more than a year._ _Crappy sex with an old friend. The worse kind of crappy sex. _Booth felt the urge to pull his hair out. _Don't do that. If she's not interested by you now, she probably won't ever if you are bald._

Tired of talking to himself, he had tried watching TV. But the news were the same all over the world: war, bombings, murders, kidnappings... And the weather channel wasn't that interesting. He thought about going for a walk, but then he thought that if she came back and he was gone, she'd know he was... let's say 'worried'. He didn't want to admit he was jealous. And her track record with men wasn't that great. Fine. He was jealous. Horribly jealous. That she was having fun and he was not.

He remembered the Tequila left in the freezer. He took the bottle out and washed one of the mugs from the sink. Fuck the salt. Fuck the lemon. He took a shot... The taste just reminded him of her sweet, warm lips. She knew how to kiss, that's for sure. He had had proof with the mistletoe surprise. But at the time, he had thought maybe she was putting on a show for Caroline. She had only kissed him because she really wanted that trailer for her father. Then he smiled. He remembered he had offered her to talk to Caroline and she had refused so vehemently... At the time, for a millisecond, he had thought she was lying about Caroline's blackmail story. That maybe she just wanted him to kiss her. But then Caroline had came in. And he had felt stupid.

They had kissed last night. He wasn't sure it could be qualified as a real kiss since it was part of a drinking game. But part of him wanted to think so. She had moaned into his mouth, for God's sake. _Why would she go out with someone else on our last night here if she's interested? She's not! Stop it._ He sighed. She was getting on his nerves. Didn't she realize she was driving him crazy? He was on the verge of losing control and ruining all the efforts he had put in the past year or so.

He put the liquor back into the freezer. He had time to gather his stuff. They were leaving tomorrow. And he cleaned up the place. He checked his emails. Not hers. Then, bored almost to tears, he attempted to write some hot sex scene... _Ha ha. I should leave it there._ The phone rang. He almost killed himself trying to get to it fast. Maybe she was in trouble. Maybe she was calling for him to get her out of there because the guy was a complete sleeping pill. Maybe...

"Hello?"

"...Who's this?" he recognized Angela's voice say.

"Hey, Angela. You know it's midnight here?"

She stayed quiet a couple of seconds.

"Booth? What... Wow. Is Brennan... _asleep?_" she asked. He could hear in her tone the hidden meaning. He decided to tease her.

"Yes. You want me to wake her up? She's right here."

"Uh..." Angela chocked out. She heard him kind of whisper, like he was covering the phone.

_Hey, sweetie, it's Angela. She was to speak to you._

But then he laughed out loud.

"I'm kidding!" he said. "She's out."

Angela breathed again.

"Wow. That was one weird ass joke, Booth. You must be really bored."

"I am."

_What are you doing in Brennan's apartment?_ Angela burned to ask.

"Where is she?" she said instead.

"Out with some punk."

Angela smirked at the evident jealousy.

"She has her cell phone with her, though," he added.

_Please call her and interrupt whatever she's doing, _he thought.

"Want me to call her and call you back with the details?" she asked tentatively.

_Yes please._

"Funny," he said.

"You know I'm not joking," Angela replied.

"'Goodnight, Angela," he said. They hung up.

Letting himself fall back on the couch, he chewed his bottom lip for a few minutes. Then he called Parker.

--

Brennan was freaking out. _This can't be happening. You love sex. You need sex. What are you waiting for?_ She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hiding. In her underwear. Her clothes were probably spread all over the place back there. She buried her face in her palms. _Fuck._

The evening had started smoothly. They had lots of catching up to do. Then it had become evident, even to her (which was quite evident since she usually never picked up on those things) that Mike wanted to seduce her. And she had let him think it was working. Logically, this could only help. She'd sleep with him, get the release her body needed so badly, and never see him again. She had done that often in the past. Recreational sex. But this didn't feel recreational. It felt... wrong. She sighed. She would have to get out of the bathroom really soon. Mike was waiting. And, to her knowledge, a naked man with an erection was not that patient.

She tried to understand what she was feeling. When they first started kissing, her analytical mind had immediately compared him to Booth. And Booth had won, by a mile. Then she had forced herself to concentrate on the feelings in her body. But Booth had kept popping in her mind. She had ignored it. Mike had started taking her clothes off. It was then she had started feeling really weird. Like she was doing something wrong. Pissed at herself, she had pushed Mike's hands away and finished getting her pants and blouse off. She had avoided kissing him, wanting really badly to get this over with. Once Mike was completely naked, she had pushed him onto the bed, straddling him. But when she had felt the tip of his penis pushing into her panties, she had completely and utterly freaked out. She had felt tears stinging her eyes, her chest had contracted painfully. She felt, and this was COMPLETELY irrational, like she was betraying Booth. Like she was cheating on him. She had gotten off the bed, losing herself in excuses.

"I'm sorry. I'll... be right back. Sorry. You stay here."

_You stay here? Where do you want him to go, naked and hard?_

And she had fled to the bathroom, bringing her purse with her –maybe he'd think she had to put in a diaphragm or something- and she had locked the door behind her.

_So... let me get this straight: You can't sleep with Booth because it would ruin everything and you can't sleep with anyone else because of Booth? What kind of twisted joke is this?_

She heard her phone vibrate in her purse. Quickly, she checked the caller ID. _Thank God!_

"Angela..." she whispered, grateful beyond reason.

"Sweetie... why are you whispering?"

"Because I'm locked in the bathroom."

"What?" her friend yelled into her ear. "Where are you?! I'll call Booth!"

"No!" she tried to keep her voice down. "No Booth! I'm fine. I locked myself in."

"Why?"

"Because he's naked," she said.

"What? Who's naked?"

"Mike Bruski."

"From college?"

"Yeah," Brennan confirmed.

"If he's naked... why are you locked in the bathroom? Did he force you to..."

"No!" she quickly rectified. "I'm... really confused, Ange. This is..."

Brennan felt the tears threatening her again.

"... Ange..."

"Shit! Are you crying?" The concern in Angela's voice made it worse.

"No," she managed to screech out.

"Ok. Deep breath."

Brennan took a deep breath. Then another.

"Not so fast," Angela said. "You don't want to hyperventilate. Tell me what's going on."

Brennan was so mad at herself. She angrily wiped the tears off her cheeks.

"I don't know." _Pffffff. _"I thought... This is stupid. It's just sex. But I can't. I feel like I'm 16 again. Like I'm with Jimmy Gareth in the backseat of his truck..." The tears kept coming and she kept wiping them off. "... and I don't want to go any further."

Angela remembered that story. Brennan had only talked about it once. God, how she wished she could hug her friend right now.

"Just go home to Booth, Bren."

_Go home to Booth._

"How do you know he's..."

"I called you earlier. He answered."

Brennan exhaled a long breath. _Ok. Get a grip._

"I'm sorry about that," she said.

"It's ok. You wanna tell me what made you lock yourself in there?"

"He... We were having a great time. And then... I thought... Why not? He's a man. I'm a woman. You know?"

"Yeah."

"And then... he kept giving me that look in my head."

"Mike gave looks _in your head?_ What do you mean?"

"No. Booth. He was there, he wouldn't leave me alone. And then I just couldn't."

"Oh..." Angela said, like she understood completely. "Sweetie, it's normal."

"It doesn't feel normal."

Explaining this would take hours. Angela decided to wait. Her phone bill would already be exorbitant.

"You're gonna get out of the bathroom. Tell him you have to go, and leave. Simple."

"But he's expecting..."

"Sweetie, guys have great expectations all the time. The worse that can happen is that he thinks about you while he wank it off."

"He what?"

"You know. Like when you think of Booth when you..."

"Thanks, Angela. 'Night."

She hung up. She wracked her brain trying to remember when in hell she had told her best friend that she fantasized about Booth while masturbating. She had no recollection of it. She was fairly certain she had never said so. Unlocking the door, she took a deep breath and got out.

She didn't say a word. She got dressed, ignoring Mike's questions. And as she reached the door, she turned and said, "I don't mind if you think of me when you wank it off." And she was gone.

She walked aimlessly in London for a while, clearing her head. After almost two hours of walking around, she decided to _go home to Booth._

--

When the phone rang again, Booth knew instantly Angela was calling back with details.

"Yeah."

"Booth? She's in the bathroom and he's naked in the bedroom."

Then she hung up.

_How's that for payback?_ Angela thought._ You won't let my best friend have sex with another guy when she needs it? You won't get to sleep tonight._

Booth stared at the phone for some time before he set it back on the table. _Great._ He lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. And stared. And stared...

It was almost 2:30am when he heard the front door open. _Finally!_ He felt his body relax and pretended to be sleeping.

Brennan quietly took her shoes off. Everything was dark. Booth was probably sleeping. She tiptoed to the bedroom. He wasn't there. Then she saw him on the couch. She didn't hold back her smile. He was sleeping. Detaching her gaze from him, she took the blanket on the bed and silently walked up to him. Careful not to wake him up, she put the blanket on him and kneeled beside him. _I'm home,_ she thought.

Slightly disappointed he wouldn't be holding her in the morning, she went to sleep. Alone.

--

TBC... I thought we'd reach the next level but they're really taking their time! I'm sorry I had so much to write. They are going back to DC next, though. PROMISE.


	12. Fight or Flight

**A.N.: Why do I update so fast? 'Cause I can't stop writing when you all review like you do!! THANKS! (although I'm supposed to graduate college tomorrow and I still haven't started my last term paper. GAH! This is all your fault.**

Chapter Twelve  
FIGHT OR FLIGHT

The next morning, 5 :30am, Brennan had taken a shower, gotten dressed, and her luggage was ready. She prepared coffee and filled a cup for Booth. He was still sleeping. She squatted in front of him. He was so peaceful, it bothered her to wake him up. But they had to leave soon. Their flight was at 8:45.

"Booth..." she whispered.

He didn't move a muscle.

"... Booth," she tried again, poking his shoulder.

"Mmmh," he groaned. That made her smile.

"Booth, wake up."

"Go away..." he mumbled. He tried to turn to his other side, but he slipped from the couch. By falling, he hit her and she spilled hot coffee on him.

"God dammit!" he yelled.

Surprised, she yelped, "Sorry, Booth! Sorry!"

He cursed again, getting up.

"I'm sorr..."

"It's ok!" he replied, cutting her off. He didn't sound ok. She watched him walk straight to the bathroom, and slam the door.

She hesitated between feeling horrible and wondering why this was such a big deal. She had spilled coffee on herself to, and it was his fault. He was the one who fell off the couch.

When he got out of the bathroom, he went to the fridge and poured himself an orange juice.

"I'm sorr..." she tried again, wondering how she was supposed to defuse him.

"Yeah, you're sorry, I get it."

"No need to snap at me. I didn't push you off the couch!" she replied as cold as he did. "And if you didn't want to fall off a couch, you should have slept in the bed."

His head spun towards her.

"I didn't sleep in the bed because I knew you didn't want me there!"

"What? I never said that."

"You wanted me to sleep with you?"

_Yes._

She decided to ignore his dig. He was in a crappy mood and he wanted her to be as well.

"What time did you go to sleep?" she asked.

_Same as you._ He maybe had 3 hours of sleep, and that wasn't nearly enough. She had had a wonderful evening with some guy, slept 3 hours and looked damn hot. It wasn't fair.

"11, maybe?" he lied.

"Then why are you so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy," he mumbled. _Yeah, right._ He got up and finally took the cup of coffee she had ready for him. "I'm sorry I yelled," he said, looking at her right in the eye so she'd know he was being honest. "I'm not a morning person."

She nodded.

"Did you have a good time last night?" he dared to ask, fearing the answer.

"Great." But her voice didn't mean it, which made him a little relieved. Only a little.

--

Something wasn't quite right. They hadn't fell into the weird silence treatment on their way to the airport, but still. After takeoff, Brennan undid her seatbelt and turned to him. She thought she knew what was bothering him.

"I'm sorry you had to spend your evening alone. I shouldn't have gone out with Mike when I had already told you I would have dinner with you." _There. All should be fine, now._

"It's fine. I watched TV, called Parker. Everything's good."

He couldn't fool her, though. She decided to open up. He always said if she wanted others to open up, she had to give a little something of herself. So she did.

"I didn't sleep with him," she confessed with a straight voice.

She saw him grip the armrest a little tighter. Maybe he was afraid of flying.

"I don't want to know," he quickly said. _Then why was he naked in the bedroom?_ he thought. Then he realized she was surely being literal. She hadn't _slept_ with him. He dug his fingers into the armrest, trying to pull the fabric.

Thinking he heard her wrong, she repeated herself.

"I said, I _didn't._"

"And I said I didn't want to know!" he said, finally looking at her.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"No," he answered too quickly.

She sighed, brushing her hair off her cheek. Maybe he had been a little cold.

"Is it a sex question?" he asked, still annoyed.

"Kind of," she said, meeting his eyes.

"Then no." He broke eye contact.

She asked anyway.

"Remember that girl you told me about, Karen Isley? The one who left you naked under the bleachers?"

He looked at her then. She remembered her name? Bones remembered everything, but she wasn't that good with names.

"Were you extremely mad at her for doing this to you?"

_Ok. She's trying to tell you something. What is it?_

"What's this about, Bones?"

She scratched the spot under her nose. She did that when she was uncomfortable. So he calmed down.

"Did you run off with his clothes?" he asked. _Because I'd be really proud._

She did as if she hadn't heard him and asked another question.

"Did you ever find yourself in a situation where you were about to have sexual intercourse, and the girl just... couldn't? Changed her mind at the last possible second?"

Her voice was stable, but her eyes were shifty. _So, she really didn't sleep with him._ He saw her nibble on her lower lip.

"Are you okay, Bones?" he asked, putting a hand on her forearm.

"I could have, though. He seemed to have great stamina," she said.

"Stop," he winced, taking his hand off her. She was not gonna go into details, was she?

"He had great hands, too..."

"Bones, I mean it."

"Oh, me too..." she said, teasing him.

"Stop it, ok?" he said, looking back at the TV screen imbedded in the seat in front of him. "I'm not one of your gay friends," he said.

_What?_

"But... we're friends," she said. "I thought friends shared that kind of stuff. Angela does all the time."

"She's a woman."

"I'm a woman."

"And I'm _not_. You don't get it, do you?" he finally asked. _This is driving me crazy. Thinking of another man touching you? No, thanks._

"I get it," she said, surprising him. But then she added, "You don't like knowing about other men's sexual prowess because of your alpha-male status."

_Wow. She's something else._ Tired of this, he decided it was time. Time for him to give her a taste of what she was putting him through. Maybe then she'd get it. He stepped on his pride and began.

"Ok. Let's talk, then. Last month, I was with this woman, right?"

_Last month?_ She tried not to react.

"And, man! She was beautiful," he continued, already shy. "She had long blond hair, down to the small of her back. Legs up to here." He took a deep breath. "The way she kissed me was... Wow. She got me going, if you know what I mean."

Brennan knew he was trying to prove a point. She just didn't know which point she was supposed to get. Jealousy or arousal? He went on.

"As soon as I pressed her against me, I..."

Arousal, then. He was turning her on. Was that his intention?

"Fine! I get your point." _Loud and clear._ And she turned her head back to the window. Booth thanked God she had stopped him. He didn't know what else to invent.

Now they could argue about anything else. _Uhm..._

"Look at that guy," he said. "He's all alone..."

"You know, from an evolutionary standpoint, our survival has depended on the ability to prevent rejection, or to reclaim membership to the group once rejected..."

_That's my girl!_ Though she had lost him at 'evolutionary'. He wondered what she'd say about airplane peanuts...

--

She was back at the Jeffersonian. She had missed her office. She had missed everyone. But she missed Booth more. She hadn't seen him in two days. She rationalized her feeling by telling herself it was because they just had spent every waking –and sleeping- hours together. But it didn't help.

Angela had wanted to talk about the Mike fiasco. Brennan didn't. After a whole day of avoiding the Booth subject, she decided to talk about it. As a favor to Angela, to their friendship. She knew sharing that kind of stuff would deepen their bond. Angela would be happy... And maybe, just maybe, it would help her too.

They were sitting on her couch in her office. She saw Angela was waiting, but she didn't know where to start.

"Maybe you should ask me questions," she suggested.

"I'll go straight to the point, then. Did you kiss him?"

"I'm not sure..."

Angela laughed. "Then you probably didn't, Sweetie."

"I mean, I did. I kissed him. I'm not sure he kissed me, though."

Angela was lost trying t figure out how that was possible.

"It might have been an accident," Brennan explained.

"How..."

"I forgot to put the lemon between my teeth. So when he went for it... He went for me."

Angela's eyes widened.

"You two did body shots?!" she tried not to yell.

"Well... We did shots... and our bodies were kind of involved, so..."

"Where?"

"In the living room."

"No," Angela explained. "Where... on the body."

"His hand... and my neck. Where else can you do that?" she asked, intrigued.

Angela would have found this really cute, but they didn't have time for that.

"Anywhere, honey."

Brennan shivered at the thought. _Anywhere?_

"Yeah," Angela said, seeing how that shook her up. "You'll know it next time."

"Can I ask you something?" Brennan said timidly.

"Anything."

"How do I know if he's... What if I try to and he..."

Whoa. She couldn't formulate her sentence. There were way too many questions that wanted answers. Angela laughed.

"Let me ask _you_ something. Do you want it to happen?"

She wasn't sure what _it_ meant, but she nodded.

"I think so."

"Then go for it. Please. For all of our sakes."

"But what if he doesn't..."

"He can't say no to you. Not with those shiny blue eyes of yours."

Brennan didn't feel that was convincing. But she couldn't say anything. Booth had walked in. Finally.

"Talking about me again?" he said, jokingly.

"Yes," Brennan replied, in all seriousness.

Both Angela and Booth were stunned a little by her forwardness. As much as she wanted to stay for this, Angela got up and left. Booth was nervous. Brennan looked like she was on a mission or something.

"You wanna sit down?" she asked him.

"No?" he said, unsure, his voice unsteady.

She sighed and took a deep breath. She had no plan. She didn't know where to begin, what do say, what to do. She was freaking out. But she took a plunge. _Here it goes._

"Wait," he interrupted her, sensing this was what it thought it was. She was about to tell him, finally. Right? In a few seconds, she'd finally tell him that she had realized what he had known for almost a year now. He had waited all this time because he knew he couldn't push her. But this was seriously not good for his mental health. He wanted her. But he wanted her to want him too. Not just physically. So he had to ask, to be certain.

He sat down and lost himself in her eyes. They were shimmering. They did that when she was getting emotional. _That's a good sign, right?_ He wasn't sure what he wanted now. But he was there.

"Do you... have feelings for me?"

He wasn't sure why his voice had gotten all shaky. He had sounded scared. He wasn't scared, was he?

_Feelings? _She couldn't think. He was staring at her in a such a way... Like his life depended on her answer. And she felt stuck. She felt like running away. But she stayed put. _Go with the truth._

"Of course. You're my friend. I care for..."

_Not THAT truth! THE OTHER ONE! _her brain yelled at her.

"No," Booth corrected her. "I mean..."

"I know what you mean," she confessed above a whisper.

"Oh."

They both stared at their hands, feeling that they were about to jump. And that they would never be able to climb back to where they were. To where things were safe. Most of the time.

"You want the truth, right?" she asked rhetorically. "I..." She couldn't lie. She couldn't. She didn't know what he wanted to hear. She only knew that: "I don't know." That was the God's honest truth. She. Had. No. Clue. She didn't know what she was feeling. She couldn't process emotions as fast as others. If he'd have asked _do you want to have sex with me, _she'd have said yes in a heartbeat. But feelings? She had feelings. She didn't know which ones.

"You don't know?" he repeated. "What kind of answer is that?"

She picked up on his irritation. It set her off a little.

"It's the only one I got right now!" she yelled back.

_Way not to push her, Booth._

He had thought about this moment. A lot. Almost every day, in fact. In his mind, when this moment would come, he'd put on his charm smile, the one that made a squirm, and he'd kiss her. But this was happening for real now. When had he became such a sissy?

Her insides flipped, twisted and tied into a knot. _That was the wrong answer, wasn't it? _She clasped her hands together so he wouldn't notice she was trembling. _Did I ruin everything?_ Her voice probably seemed detached and cold when she asked,

"What do you want me to say?"

"Guys! We'v got a case! Three bodies were found literally sitting on a park bench," Cam said, popping her head in. "We need you," she added, slapping her hand on the door frame.

Booth wanted to stay. He wanted to finish this. They had danced around this way too long. But Brennan had taken this opportunity to button her lab coat, take her big bag, and in a flash, she was out the door. He decided to breathe instead of running after her. _Three freaking bodies? What was that? A cosmic joke?_

_--_

_TBC. if you thought this was filled with tension... you might wanna skip next chapter. But I wouldnt do that if I were you... you might miss the M rated stuff... Just saying._


	13. One, Two, Three

Chapter Thirteen  
ONE, TWO, THREE...

"Three females... Caucasians, 70 to 80 years old..."

"Three old ladies on a park bench," Cam said.

"Where's the flasher?" Booth asked under his breath. Camille heard him and cracked up.

"What?" Brennan asked, looking mostly at Cam. "Why are you laughing?"

"Three old ladies on a park bench... Then came a flasher...?" Cam tried to explain. But then she remembered who she was talking to. And said, "It's an old joke. Never mind."

"I can laugh at a joke," Brennan said, offended.

Cam shot a look at Booth.

"You won't think it's funny," Booth said.

"How do you get to decide what I find funny or not?"

"Fine," he said, giving up. "Three old ladies are on a park bench. A flasher walks by and flashes them."

Cam looked at Booth. She couldn't believe he was actually telling Dr Brennan this sex joke. And his tone... was more bored and monotonous than anything.

"The first old lady has a stroke, the second one has a stroke, the third one... can't reach that far," he finished.

Cam laughed again, sharing a smile with Booth. But of course, Brennan didn't laugh.

"I told you you wouldn't get it," Booth said.

"I get it. Two of the ladies performed manual sexual stimulation on the flasher's genitalia."

Booth wanted to dig a hole and crawl in it.

"But you're tone of voice, the way you told the joke, wasn't there to carry the punch line," she continued, refocusing on the remains.

"Whatever," he muttered.

Cam watched the two of them. Something was off.

"I'll need the remains to..." Brennan ordered.

"I know," Booth interrupted her.

"And the..."

"Park bench, got it."

"You wanna do my job?" she snapped at him.

Cam took a step back and followed the exchange from afar.

"Geez, Bones, relax."

"Okay! That's it. What's going on here?" Cam interjected.

"Nothing," they both mumbled at the same time.

Cam put her fists on her hips.

"This is not nothing. You two have barely exchanged a word since we got here. And when you did, it was to bark at one another."

"I can't talk to Booth, he's mad at me," Brennan stated.

Booth's head spun towards her.

"What? I'm not mad at you. You're mad at _me_!"

"I'm not mad at you!" Brennan retorted.

"Enough!" Cam said. "Neither of you is mad. I get it." She studied them a second. "Will I have to send Sweets after you?" she suggested.

"No."

"Not necessary."

They both looked down at their feet, like children caught by their mother.

"I'll be at the lab," she said, getting off her knees.

"I drove you here, remember?" Booth told her.

"Then I'll be in the car," she said, annoyed.

He watched her go and sighed. Cam approached him.

"You slept with her, didn't you?" she said, smiling.

"What?! No! Why would you say that?"

"You've got your guilty face on. What did you do?"

"Unbelievable! Why is it always my fault?" he argued.

"Whatever it is, I don't wanna know. But I want you to fix it, because this murder case is gonna need all of us in sync."

"You better tell _her_, not _me_."

"I'm serious, Seeley," Cam warned him before walking away.

Booth instructed the team to take everything to the Jeffersonian. He might have sounded a little bossier than usual.

How was he supposed to fix them? He got behind the wheel of his SUV and started the engine. She was reading report. Obviously, she didn't want to talk. He turned the radio on and drove. At least, the bodies had been found not too far from the Jeffersonian.

Pretending to read the report she was holding, she wondered how she was supposed to fix them. This was her fault. But how was she supposed to verbalize three years of emotions in one sentence? It was illogical. Yet she knew it was possible. People did it all the time. He turned on the radio and she understood he didn't want to talk. She looked outside the window. They were almost there.

--

10:57pm. It wasn't true that days seemed longer in England. They were excruciatingly long in DC too. Everyone had left the lab, except her. Three victims, three murder weapons yet to be determined, three killers, one park bench, one crime scene. She was compiling all the data they had cumulated into her computer. But after the third transcribing error on her part, she stopped. This was going to take all night. She was too exhausted to go across the street to get coffee.

She folded her arms on her desk and rested her head on them.

"You sleeping?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to him.

"Didn't wanna scare you," he said. He handed her a Styrofoam coffee cup. "Peace offering," he explained, tilting his head.

He looked calm. It soothed her instantly.

"Just so you know," she said, getting up and taking the cup, "I'm not angry with you."

"And I'm not angry with you."

They both took a sip, sitting on the couch. Brennan was next to speak up.

"But... something's wrong with us, no?"

Booth shrugged.

"I wouldn't say something's _wrong,_ I'd say... something's not quite right."

She laughed faintly.

"Good news is, it can't possibly get worse, right?"

She seemed drained.

"I don't get it," she started, putting down the cup on the table in front of them.

"What?"

"You and Cam. You used to have a personal relationship, it ended, and yet, you still talk, joke, and laugh together. You and I never did anything, why is it so difficult for us to..."

"It's gonna be alright, Bones. You'll see."

He sounded so confident, she almost believed him. They shared a look mixed of sadness and hope.

"Have you met Kate, yet?" Booth asked, taking another sip of coffee.

Brennan's shoulders dropped a little.

"No."

"I see you're looking forward to that," he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. His childlike face was so damn cute.

"I know it might sound rude, but I hate new people."

"I know you do," he said, understanding.

She played with the edge of her paper cup.

"We were a great team."

She wasn't sure if she was talking about the whole team, or mostly the two of them.

"We still are," he affirmed.

"Booth?"

She felt his eyes on her.

"Remember when you told me we were the center?"

He chuckled.

"When you kissed my hand?" he said, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes shut tightly and she tried not to laugh.

"I didn't..."

"I chose to believe you did."

She smiled at him. "Doesn't make it true."

Then her smile faded and she got all serious on him.

"Do you still believe we are the center?"

"More than ever, Bones."

His hand caressed her knee. She didn't protest.

"And are we... gonna hold?"

He put on his charm smile which got to her instantly.

"Always."

She held his gaze. She was getting better at this.

"Thanks for the coffee," she said, holding up the cup.

"You're welcome."

She didn't want this moment to end.

"I could eat some Thai food..." she said, as a-matter-of-factly.

His smile transformed into a grin.

"What?" she asked.

"Already put the order in."

She chuckled. Was she that predictable?

"Speaking of which," he said, patting her knee before getting on his feet. "I've gotta drop some papers at the FBI before going to the restaurant to get our takeouts. I'll meet you back here?"

She nodded and watched him back up to the door, never taking his eyes off her.

"I think we're back," he said.

"Not if you forget the extra..."

"Got it," he winked, interrupting her. And he was off.

She was still smiling when she sat in front of her computer. While waiting for him to get back, she decided to get rid of some old files she didn't need. And by 'getting rid of', she meant burning them on a disk. She started by clearing her desktop, putting everything in chronological order rather than alphabetical. Then she opened her documents folder and renamed each file accordingly. This one, she didn't recognize. When had she written a word document titled _"SB-Xfile"_? She doubled clicked on it. That was definitely not hers:

_He lay back down on the bed and pulled her on top of him. Her giggle wrapped around his heart and squeezed it. They lost themselves in the other's gaze. Something strong, scary, exhilarating passed, and they both caught it. They eased into the silence and kept staring. There was no battle over who would look away first. There was no eyebrow raised. Only a knowing look neither of them would acknowledge tonight.  
She kissed him first. Taking her time, she played with his lips who responded move for move, like they had been doing this for years. Her heart was about to burst. And she knew what it meant. Still she couldn't even form the words in her own head, terrified of getting hurt again. She brushed the three little words off her mind, but they kept rushing back, swirling and twirling... The way they were kissing was foreshadowing a long and tender night. Maybe she didn't even realize it, she panicked.  
-Fuck me..., she said, almost chocking on her words. She felt she was ripping apart, and didn't want to fall. She couldn't.  
He rolled over her, brushing her bangs off her forehead. Her eyes were closed. He didn't want to rush it tonight. He wanted to possess everything of her. He wanted it to be perfect for her. He kissed her nose, her neck, teased her ear. He reached for her knee and brought it up only to caress the soft skin of her thigh.  
She whispered his name, begging. Her mind was screaming at him._ Please, be rude and fast. Please don't make me fall. _She tried with all her strength to roll back on top. He wouldn't have it.  
She didn't want to be kissed. She wanted him in her. She wanted this over with before the tears she felt in her chest came streaming down her face. She darted her tongue out to make it hornier and less intimate, and he gladly complied. She finally took him in her hand and guided him between her legs, which she parted further to make access easier. He felt his tip gliding in her and he pulled away slowly. _Not so fast._  
She pleaded, pulling his body on her, pushing hers up on him. She bit his shoulder a little and almost groaned.  
-Look at me.., he whispered.  
_Don't talk to me like this,_ she thought._ Moan, scream, yell, say dirty things. Fuck me. Don't whisper my name._  
-Temperance..._

Brennan froze. She read that word three times in a row. She was not imagining it. Her name was there. Squirming in her seat she wondered what to do. She continued reading.

_-Temperance...  
She knew her eyes were filled with tears now. She was holding in her breath, too. Because she knew the second she'd let her breath out, she wouldn't be able to hold her heart in any longer.  
-Fuck m...  
-Please.  
Her eyes opened and he entered her. She blinked rapidly to hide the inevitable. He thrust in her, taking his time, studying her, trying to read her mind. She held his gaze as long as she could. But the look in his eyes... giving her hope, making her believe for a second--_

She slammed her laptop shut. _What was that?_ She had no proof he... Booth didn't write. It couldn't be his. He was afraid of every sex related term in the dictionary. Writing reports was a nightmare for him. How could he have written something so... beautiful and intense? And it's not like she could ask him, "Hey, Booth? Have you left an amazing story on my computer?" "What story?" "The one where someone, which could be you, makes love to me?"... Ok. Now she was acting crazy.

She got up and paced around. She checked the temperature on the wall. _That's broken. No way it's only 68__°F._

But what if it was a message? _No way..._ What if he wanted her to find it? _Hypothesis: He wrote this for me to find it... so I know I can... BlahhhhahWUE82hqbjiehundmalo!!_

"Hey! I'm sorry it took so long. I made them put more spring rolls, because I'm sure that, even though you won't admit it, you stole mine last time. I did not eat it. I'd remember."

Everything he said sounded like Hebrew to her. She didn't understand Hebrew. But she nodded, praying he wouldn't see how flustered she was. She took a book from her desk and turned around to put it on the bookshelf. That's when it hit her.

All she had to do was to conduct a little experiment. She undid two buttons of her blouse, showing off her cleavage. If he responded well... she'd make Angela proud.

--

_TBC. You all still there?_


	14. More Than Spring Rolls

**A.N.:**** I hope you're happy with this... This one is Rated M I guess...**

Chapter Fourteen  
MORE THAN SPRING ROLLS

Booth pulled out the food containers out of the plastic bag. He had no clue how they managed to eat all of it every time. He loved having leftovers. But with her? There was never anything left. He took a couple a chopsticks and started emptying noodles into two plates.

"Why do we bother using plates?" she said. "We end up fighting over the containers anyway..."

He laughed and looked up.

Brennan leaned over the table. His breath instantly got shallow. She was giving him a pretty darn great view of her breasts right there.

"Hey! I want more of that," she whined.

He scratched his head. _Me too..._

"Uhm... yeah. Here." He handed her the box. "I'm starting with the spring rolls before you eat them all," he said, trying to forget the perfectness of her white, soft looking skin. He didn't want to look. Well, he tried not to. But her blouse was almost half open. Should he tell her?

"What?" she asked. She had noticed him looking.

"The rolls."

He wasn't sure because he was concentrating on finding the spring rolls, but he thought he saw a hint of a smirk appearing on her lips. Speaking of lips, she had taken a bite and now her lips were shiny from oil... Booth swallowed the lump in his throat.

"What about the rolls?" she asked. Then she bent over again. And took two spring rolls.

He took a mouthful so he wouldn't have to explain. _Ok, Booth. Talk about the case. It's a weird one, you've got plenty to say. Talk about the old guy would knew the ladies, the one feeding the pigeons. Yeah. Talk about that. And stop looking at her cleavage. It's not gentlemanlike. _

Brennan wasn't sure her experiment was working. She had caught him looking at her breasts a few times, but she couldn't really make an assessment based on that. Any men would have done the same. Attracted to her or not. She had an idea. She had seen this in a movie once. She smiled inwardly. And she brought a spring roll to her mouth. Maybe she was feeling puckish.

He finally looked at her, ready to make her laugh with the pigeon man. His pants tightened. She opened her mouth slowly, looking at him in the eye. Her tongue darted out a second to touch the roll before she wrapped her lips tightly around it. _Jesus, Mary, Joseph! What is she doing?!_ He heard her moan.

"It's so good," she let out.

He felt his balls tensing up. He sprung up to his feet.

"Where are you going?" she wondered.

_Yeah, where are you going?_

"Uhm... I forgot the napkins." _Smooth..._

She narrowed her blue eyes and showed him a stack of napkins.

"They're right here..."

_It was working, right?_

She got up and took a step towards him. He quickly took a step back and his calves hit the couch. _Don't come any further, you little minx!_ _You don't know what you're doing to me. Or what I could do to you._

"What's wrong with you?" she asked. But it sounded more like a loud whisper, really.

"I... bit my tongue," he said, desperate. He had to get out of here. This was his partner. His best friend, really. He could not push her flat against the wall. He couldn't tear out that freaking blouse, even if it was really asking for it. Did she even realize...

She took another step forward, which made him sit on the arm of the couch. She was standing between his legs. _Ok. This is it,_ she told herself. _His pupils are dilated, his breathing has increased... _

She pinched her lips together, taking a deep breath and she went for it. She leaned it, not so slowly, and brought her face closer to his. She could smell his aftershave, feel his breath on her skin. Intoxicating.

_Whoa! _He didn't know why. He panicked. And put his hands on her shoulders to stop her.

She felt him stopping her. She pulled away quickly. And felt like she was liquefying. Even if it was realistically impossible, she was going to drown in humiliation. Her face flushed and she shut her eyes tightly.

"I'm sorry," she quickly said with a nervous laugh. Real nervous.

"No! I..." he got up, reaching for her, wanting to take her by the shoulders and tell her he panicked.

"It's fine!" she said, mortified. "I not used to feeling stupid, but I'm pretty sure it'll pass..." _I hope so._

She paced around, letting out another nervous laugh and shook her head. _Wow. I was not expecting that._

Booth was a moron.

"Don't say that," he said. "I'm sorry. I..."

"I misread the signs," she said. "I thought... But it's fine."

"You thought what?" _That's called pushing it, man._

"That you... That you wanted me to do that. But..."

_And you were so fucking right! Please, can we start over?_

"...evidently, it's not the case."

"No! I mean yes! What makes you think I don't?"

_Really? You asking her that? Booth! What the hell?!_

She looked at him. He wasn't sure, but she looked furious.

"Well, you pushing me away was a pretty good indicator!"

"I didn't know what to think!" he explained. "You..." He motioned his hand towards her. "...with the blouse... and the..." He pointed to the food on the table. "...rolls... I..."

"It's fine, Booth! We really don't have to go into this."

"Oh, but we do."

She sighed.

"I was just trying to kiss you, that's all!"

_Yeah, that's the problem!!_

"That's the problem!" he let out. He could have slapped himself.

"Yeah, I get it. You don't want to kiss me. It's no big deal. We can move on now. Please?" Her chest was tightening. She found it difficult to breathe. Now, if only she could stop the stinging in her eyes...

"No, you don't get it!" His erection was getting painful. He was about to lose control. "I can't just kiss you right now!"

She raised her hands to stop him.

"Yeah, ok! Stop now. Please," she begged. Her voice did not crack. But she was about to. And she didn't want to feel like this anymore.

She really didn't understand. _Of course, she doesn't. You're not explaining it really well._ And he was pissed at himself for not being able to. He would have to show her. He sighed, laughed at his pathetic self. Was he really going to do that? He took her by the hips and slowly pushed again until her rear hit the desk.

She looked up at him, trying to understand what he was doing. Her heart had never beaten that fast. Her blood was rushing through her veins.

Then he pushed himself onto her. She felt him. He was hard. She gasped, and her eyes blurred with desire.

"You get it?" he whispered. And his lower body pressed even more into her, parting her legs a little. "You get it?" he repeated.

She started nodding, really slowly, unable to stop staring at his lips. She wanted those lips on her. He sighed and started pulling away, but her body went faster than her mind and she pulled on his waist to bring him back to her, parting her legs even more to feel him onto her, closer.

"I'm lying. I don't get it..." she murmured, her voice low and husky. She imperceptibly rubbed herself on the bulge of his pants.

_God. Good. Good God._

He slid the back of his fingers on her flushed cheeks to the back of her neck and pulled her head towards his. He heard her sharp intake of breath as he brushed his nose on hers, resting his forehead onto hers. Her hands left his waist and trailed down to his lower back. She pulled him even closer, parting her lips, breathing on his face. He finally leaned in, hesitating, wanting to remember every detail. And he caught her mouth, slowly. He let the moment sink in and kissed her again, more pressingly. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss with a moan, and cupped his face. She couldn't get enough of his taste. Shy, their tongues met unhurriedly, trembling. Booth's hands moved down to the back of her thighs and digging his fingers into her skin. When she rotated her hips into him, he let out a groan and broke the kiss unwillingly.

"Don't stop," she complained, pulling his face to hers again.

"I'm not stopping, I'm breathing," he whispered into her ear.

She leaned into the warmth of his breath in her neck, twisting her head and opened her heavy eyelids to catch his eyes. With her index finger, she traced his bottom lip.

"Don't breathe, then," she said.

She kissed him again, with all the passion she felt building inside her. She felt a whole in her stomach and she desperately needed him to fill it. She clutched on his shirt, grabbed his biceps, caressed his back. As she tugged on his shirt to get it out of his pants, he lifted her up and sat her down on her desk. Something fell down to the floor. They didn't hear anything. Only the sounds the other made, the panting that filled the room. They didn't want to stop kissing. Scared the other would change their mind. Scared the moment would pass. So they clung to each other. She was the one needing to breathe now. Her lips went to the crook of his neck. She bit softly, taking in his scent. Her heart was racing. The whole in her plexus grew larger and she sighed as she felt his fingers on the skin of her back under her top. She managed to pull herself away from him long enough for him to unbutton it. He was trying to take his time, but his fingers were shaking with anticipation. After every button, he brushed his index finger on the skin he was exposing. He finally opened the blouse and pushed his hands on her shoulders to make it drop to the floor. At the same time, she took his shirt off. She gently scratched his pectoral muscles. Her breasts were heavily moving up and down with her breathing. She was so beautiful it almost hurt him. She clutched on his hair as he buried his face in her chest. Kissing and licking her flesh. Her nipples were already hard when he teased them over the lace of her bra with his thumbs before taking them into his mouth, wetting the fabric and making her cry out a little.

She reached down and she fumbled on his belt buckle. She loosened it and slid down the zipper of his pants. He bit on her nipple as she reached to cup him over the fabric of his briefs. He grunted and she squeezed him again once. He slid down the straps of her bra and kissed one of her shoulders as he reached down to her thighs to lift up her skirt. She whimpered loudly when his fingers, trying to bring the hem of her panties down, stroked her clit. He caught her mouth again, wanting to capture the sounds of pleasure she made, and he brought her panties to her knees. She let them fall on the floor. With her ankles, she hooked his legs and brought him closer. Lost into his eyes, she positioned her wetness onto his underwear, letting his penis feel the warmth of her arousal. He slid her bra down to her stomach and she pressed her upper body onto his torso, needing to feel his skin with hers. She hung on to him like she was about to lose him. She needed him. He kissed her neck and tears stung her eyes as she slid her hands down his underwear to take it off. She took him in her hand, feeling his excitement pulsating, and brought his tip to her opening, squeezing it in place with her inner muscles. Their forehead met, their eyes locked for a second until he pushed his length into her. She cried out, hugging him tightly by the shoulders and met him thrust for thrust. Trust for trust. Beads of sweat sticking between their bodies, they let their body talk. Their tongues dancing, their lips crashing. Each of his moans brought her closer to the edge. She didn't want this magic to end. Ever.

"Booth," she needed to whimper. To make it real. And she shook from head to toes, digging her heals into his ass, pulling him into her last cry.

And he let himself go. He spilled into her with everything he had.

It took a minute or two before they regained proper notion of time and place. A few minutes before, sore, she freed his body from the restrain of her legs.

He wished they were in a bed, or even on the couch. Then, they could lay together for a while. He could play with her hair the way he wanted to. He could hold her properly, show her he didn't want to let go. But he was standing up, his knees were about to give up on him. And she was sitting bare ass on her desk.

She was still clutching on him, her forehead onto his chest. She let go of his shoulders and slid her hands down his arms.

Was she avoiding his eyes? He lifted her chin up with his index finger. She shivered.

Would he notice the tears that had surprised her? She was overwhelmed, and she had no idea what to tell him.

Her eyes were shimmering. He smiled softly. Was she finally letting herself feel?

"You okay?" he asked, afraid his voice would break the bliss they were in. He went to brush her cheeks with his thumbs.

"What?" She laughed faintly. "No. Yeah... It's sweat," she said, wiping her cheeks, knowing the tears were still forming.

"Your eyes are sweating?" he said with a smirked.

_Fuck._

_Don't pull up a wall. You've barely just put it down._

"It's okay," he assured her.

She giggled.

"Yeah." She put her bra back on. "It's more than ok. It was..." _Perfect._ "...amazing."

She felt silly. Never had she felt so lost after sex. She buttoned her blouse.

He looked at her intensely, his heart breaking. The wall was up again. She was ignoring what they both knew: that this was more than sex. She was talking about performance. He knew she was shutting him out.

She looked down at his chest and trailed her fingers on him, mindlessly. That man was perfect. She wanted to be that perfect. What could she possibly say?

He had to give her time.

He got dressed. Maybe time had come for him to push her a little. He counted to three, waited for her to say something. Or to reach for him.

And he waited as she bit her lip, flattening her skirt.

It killed him inside, but he had to. Maybe then she'd realize.

He kissed her forehead.

"I'll see you later," he heard himself say.

And he left her there. Hoping he was doing the right thing.

--

_TBC... _


	15. The Tactic

**A.N. Sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes. I've been writing non stop for more than a week to give you quick updates... So I didnt take time to hire a beta reader. :)**

Chapter Fifteen  
THE TACTIC

"...indicating the murderer was weak. These patterns on each victim are distinct. There is no way they come from the same..."

Kate's voice was echoing on the platform. And it annoyed her.

"I believe you, Dr Jepsen."

Hodgins, Camille and Angela exchanged a confused look. When did Brennan ever just 'believe' before having seen the evidence?

"I'd prefer you'd call me Kate," her snappy little voice replied. "It helps in the work environment to..."

"Yeah..." she mumbled to herself. "Shouldn't we send this information to Booth?" she asked, hoping her voice sounded professional.

"Already did," Cam answered. "He gave everything to Agent Phips."

Brennan frowned.

"Agent Phips?"

Angela and Hodgins got a scared look on their faces. She didn't know? This was not going to be pretty.

"Booth didn't tell you? He pulled himself out of this case. Something about Parker."

"Something's wrong with Parker?" _Kate_ asked, concerned.

_You don't even know Parker, _Brennan frowned, irritated.

Hodgins mentioned chicken pox and fever, and Brennan stopped listening right then.

_Something's wrong with Parker alright. He's got an idiotic dad. Parker had chicken pox last year._

"Alright. Well... Ok. Carry on," she said, getting off the platform.

"Didn't you want to see the scenarios on the Angelator?" someone asked her.

She didn't even turn around to reply. She needed to clear her head. What better place to do that than Limbo?

--

Fact #1: You had sex in your office.  
Fact #2: You had unbelievable sex. (See fact 1)  
Fact #3: You have never been more sexually compatible with anyone.  
Fact #4: Booth has always been discreet about his sex life.  
Fact #5: He dropped the case and lied about the reason why.  
Fact #6: You've been here alone, in Limbo, thinking about him for more than two hours.  
Fact #7: It's been less than 24 hours and you miss him.  
QUESTION: What the hell's going on? And what are you gonna do about it?  
ANSWER: Nothing.

That's pretty much what the femur made her think of. She put it back in the plastic box and sighed.

She was scared nothing would ever be the same. Which sucked. Because she had loved her life these past three years. Would he stop calling her 'Bones'?

She took the right fibula.

Why did she have to go and lick the spring roll for? Why did she have to choose that moment to take Angela's advice?

She measured the length of it and noted it.

Why did _he_ have to get all worked up because of a few missing buttons? And, more importantly, why did he have to leave her like this, without a word? Ok, not true. He had said, "see you later". _Yeah, but we're 'later' and I don't see him._

"There you are!" Angela startled her.

Brennan noted the width of the bone she was holding before putting it back in the box.

"It's almost 1. You wanna grab lunch with me?" Angela asked her.

She felt like being alone, but she thought perhaps Angela would help her take her minds of things.

"Sure. Where do you wanna go?" she said, putting the box back on the shelf.

"I thought we'd order some takeouts and eat in your office."

"No!" she answered, quickly turning her head towards her friend. Did she know? No. If she knew, Angela wouldn't be that calm.

Surprised by Brennan's reaction, Angela frowned.

"Why?"

"Because. I... don't want to eat in my office. It's not sanitary."

She would had laughed at herself. _Eating in your office is not sanitary but having sex on your desk is?_

"Since when?" Angela questioned. "You always eat in your office."

"I just feel like eating out," she tried again.

Angela bit her tongue. She so wanted to ask what was wrong with her. All day, she had been snappy, nervous, agitated and she had had this bubble around herself making it difficult to approach her.

"Ok," Angela simply said.

They went to the diner, and sat down. The waitress brought them the menus. She knew that menu by heart, but she opened it and her eyes wandered on the words.

"Is it because of Kate?" Angela dared.

"Is what because of Dr Jepsen?"

Angela smiled. "Your mood."

Brennan closed the menu and looked at the artist in the eye.

"I'm not in such a great disposition today, huh?"

"To be honest? You're verging on mean."

Brennan sighed as the waitress arrived to take their orders.

"You don't have to worry," Angela said once they were alone again. "I like Kate, but you're still my B.F.F.," Angela reassured her with a smile.

"I'm your _B__ackup __F__ile __F__ormat_?"

"Best Friend Forever," Angela laughed.

That made her smile.

"I could buy us a necklace. You know those necklaces that splits in two? I'd be the 'Best', of course. You'd be the 'Friend'."

Brennan was now staring vaguely through her glass of water. Angela covered her hand with hers.

"Where are you, sweetie?"

"I'm right here..."

"No. You're not. You're miles away. And you're gonna tell me what's going on," she ordered.

The waitress brought their salads.

"I s..." She didn't want to tell her. She wanted to keep it to herself, selfishly. To hold on to it a little while longer. "I suppose I'm pissed at Booth for dumping the case like this."

Angela laughed. "His son is sick!"

_No. He is not._ But she couldn't say anything or else, Angela would know Booth was lying, she'd want to know why and this conversation would never end.

"I know."

"There will be other cases," Angela pressed on.

"I know."

They ate in silence. Then Brennan apologized.

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult today."

"We all have our moments, honey. It's fine."

They talked for a while until the bell above the diner door jingled. Brennan had her back turned to the door so she didn't see him until he arrived next to their table.

Booth had seen her through the window. His heart had skipped a beat. Time for part two. He went inside the diner and prayed he'd be strong enough to go through with it.

He walked to their table.

"Hey," he said, looking mostly at Angela.

Brennan's heart sank. She gripped her glass of water and looked up at him. It wasn't possible, but he was even more handsome than before. She liked when he wore casual civilian clothes.

"Hi," she said back, sounding like a 14 year-old girl who wants to sound nonchalant but really sounds freaked out even though she's just nervous. Barely.

He didn't look at her.

"Angela, I'll need you to give Phips sketches of the facial reconstructions so he can show them around at the retirement home."

"No problem," she said.

Brennan was still staring at him. It was so hard not to look at her.

"How's Parker?" Brennan asked, her tone letting him know that she was unto him.

"Yeah? Is he ok?" Angela seconded.

"He's gonna be fine, thanks," Booth replied.

Brennan snorted. She didn't snort too well.

"Riiiiight," she let out. "Well I'm glad." She really didn't sound like she was.

Angela shot a look at her friend. Booth told them to have a nice day and he went to the counter to order a coffee to go.

So she hadn't told Angela. He knew because Angela was acting way too normal to know. He wasn't sure what it meant. He dropped two dollar bills on the counter and went outside.

Brennan couldn't help herself.

"I'll be right back," she blurted to Angela. And she went after him.

"Booth!"

He smiled and continued walking.

"Booth!" she said, louder. "Stop!"

He stopped. She grabbed his arm and forced him to face her.

"What's up with you?" she asked, irritated.

"Nothing. What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes.

"You're ignoring me," she stated.

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it? You won't work the case, you won't look at me when I'm sitting right there," she said pointing to their table through the window.

Angela watched them, fascinated. She couldn't hear anything but it looked really interesting to say the least. She was loving this episode in the Booth and Brennan show.

"As soon as Parker's fine, I'll take the case back," he said.

"Parker _is_ fine."

"He's got chicke..." he tried to argue.

"You lied about Parker. You never use your son to lie."

"I didn't..."

She was furious. She cut him off.

"Stop lying to me. What? Do you want me to say I'm sorry I slept with you?"

"Are you? Sorry?" _I know you're not. Don't you dare say you are._

"No!" she denied.

"Then we're good." He really was relieved. "Look, I've got to get back home..."

"Hold on! I'm not done..."

"What's there left to say? You're fine, I'm fine. We're fine. It was just sex, right?" he said, sounding like her.

_Ouch._

"Right? Isn't that what you always say?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her feet a second. That's what she thought five seconds ago. Why did it bother her so badly? Why was her chest tightening? She looked him in the eye. To prove she was alright.

"Right."

"I'm not gonna let 20 minutes of fun ruin our partnership, don't worry. But I need to go right now. Nothing personal. It's all circumstantial."

She bit her lips together to stay quiet. _In London you said you didn't want anything to change._ He turned around and walked away.

This gamble of his better pay off. Because he was being an ass, and he really didn't enjoy one second of it.

--

_TBC..._ _I'll write more this evening and update asap. Next chapter is the last though :( So REVIEW PLEASE!! :):)_


	16. Outside the Box

**LAST A.N: Thanks from the bottom of my heart to all of you who stuck with me through a week of non stop updating :) You are amazing for giving me such great reviews. I hope you give me some last love after this last and final chapter. I know. I cried too. (and I'm not kidding ahah) ENJOY!!**

Chapter 16  
OUTSIDE THE BOX

Angela watched her friend come back to the table, looking shocked and lost. And hurt. Angela stopped herself from asking too many questions at once and waited for Brennan to cool off.

"I can't believe it," she heard the doctor mutter under her breath.

Angela leaned over the table.

"What was that all about?" she asked, hinting to the window with her head.

Brennan looked at her friend. Maybe it was time to tell her everything.

"I seized the day," she explained.

Angela looked at her, jaw dropped.

"What?! How could I miss a kiss?" she said, pointing to the excellent view she had of them. "I was right here!"

"Not now. Yesterday."

"You kissed him yesterday without telling me? I want my necklace back."

"I didn't kiss him. Well, yes. There was lots of intense kissing. I slept with him," she confessed quickly.

Angela's jaw dropped even more. She was making chocking sounds like she was trying to talk. Then she blinked rapidly. She knew this was gonna happen someday, but she had thought more along the lines of 5 years from now. They were sooooo oblivious usually.

"Boy! When you seize, you seize!" she said, impressed, leaning back on her chair.

Brennan got a very concerned look.

"You think it was a mistake too?"

"What? Absolutely not! Who thinks it was a mistake? Wasn't it great? Mind blowing? It surely was..." She clapped her hands back on her mouth to shut up.

"I'm starting to think it was. A mistake. I mean it really was..."

Angela was nodding and nodding, encouraging her to continue.

_She wants details, I know her._ So she explained the whole thing, starting from the little fight they had had about kissing until...

"On your desk?!" Angela yelled out. Brennan laughed. "Well, that answers a lot of questions."

"Really?" Brennan said. "Don't you mean it _creates_ a lot of questions?"

"That's why you wouldn't have lunch in your office. Actually, now that I think of it, you haven't been in your office all day. But..." Angela frowned. If they had great, unbelievable sex... "A few minutes ago, you two were..."

"I know. He... Right after the intercourse..."

"Don't say that word, sweetie. Can you find something less... technical?"

"After we both reached orgasm..."

Angela laughed at the detachment in Brennan's voice. "Go on."

"He left," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"That he left. He said I'll see you later, and he almost ran out."

"Well, that's not very Booth-like."

They pondered over it a little.

"Maybe he was ashamed..." Angela suggested.

"Of me?"

"No! Ashamed that he took you on your desk. Maybe he had something more romantic in mind, with a bed and candles."

Brennan considered the possibility.

"But he didn't look like he was regretting any of it. He was being..." Brennan shivered at the memory and relived it in flashbacks. "...tender and sweet, calm. He was so in control of everything, like... And then he snapped. Maybe I freaked him out."

"How? What did you do?" Angela asked, wondering what weird scientific comment her friend had made to break the intimacy.

"Nothing!" But Angela gave her an insisting look. "He thought I was crying," she admitted.

"You cried?" She looked in awe. Like this was the most wonderful thing ever.

"Not really. I was... Maybe I was tearing up. Don't ask me why. I have no clue. That never happened to me before."

Angela smiled.

"You were overwhelmed," she started explaining.

Brennan nodded.

"And you didn't want the moment to end."

Brennan nodded slower.

"And you felt like something was almost breaking, deep in your being."

Brennan opened her mouth and closed it. Twice.

"How did you know?" she whispered.

Angela just smiled. _Don't rush her. She'll get it. Just... Let her take this and analyse it a little._

"You think I scared him off? That that's why he's acting like this and saying those things?"

"What things?"

"Just now, outside. He said..." She clenched her fists at the thought. "He said it was just sex."

_Booth would never... Unless he thought that's what Brennan wanted to hear. Which, obviously, is not the case._

"And he's right, of course. It was just sex." _Why don't you believe yourself this time?_ "But why..." She took a deep breath. "For Booth, sex is always about... connecting and engaging. It's... Why is it 'just sex' with me?"

Brennan chocked up. That's what was bothering her. And admitting it out loud... She sighed, angry with herself. Angry with her lachrymal gland.

Angela took her hand and squeezed it.

"Ask him," she said.

She took her hand back.

"I can't!" she said. "Then he'll think I... I don't know."

"He'll think you care? Sweetie, that's a good thing. Maybe that's what he needs to hear."

"Gahhh!" Brennan let out. "I hate feeling like this!"

"Like what?"

"Like... I'm this weak, pathetic... He's in control and I'm not. I hate it."

"Then take the control back," Angela told her. "You've never waited around for a guy to call. Don't start now."

"So I should drop this? Forget..."

"No. You should call him first."

_To say what? This is so freaking complicated!_

--

She waited a whole 24 hours. She thought, maybe, he'd find a reason to call her. Or to just drop by, like he always did. But nothing. She wasn't really helping with the case, her head was in overload and she couldn't concentrate. She needed her focus back.

Making sure no one was around to interrupt her, she went into her office, felt tingly looking at her desk, and dialled his cell phone number. It went straight to voicemail.

"Hi!" she started. _You sound too cheery. _She cleared her throat."I... I know you say you're not avoiding me. But it's been a while and uhm..." _I miss you._ She changed her tone. "I met Kate. You were right," she said with a faint laugh, "I don't like her. We're not compatible. But, you know, I'm not compatible with most people, so... Ok. You can call me back. Whenever. Soon. Or not. If you want. Oh, and, in case you weren't lying, I hope Parker's feeling better. Tell him I say hi... ... Booth?... Ok. Bye."

She hung up. She tried to remember what she had just said, but her mind was blank. _Great._

--

When she arrived home, she almost ran to her answering machine. Nothing. _Come on, you ass!_ Then she felt bad for feeling so angry. She took a bath to unwind and wondered what he was doing.

At 10pm, she was sure he was home. So she called his home number. Her heart pounding, she could almost hear it in her ears. She clutched on the handset when his answering machine picked up.

"Booth? You there?"_ Please pick up._ _PICK UP!!_ She waited 4 seconds, then sighed. She hoped her sigh hadn't been recorded. "Too bad therapy's over," she said. "Sweets would love that. We'd actually have something to talk about." She hated her laugh. "Not that we'd talk about it in front of him. Or at all. You want to talk about it? Uhm... I'd really like you to call me back. Please."

She hung up when she heard herself beg. She threw her head back on the couch. Her eyes wandered on the ceiling. Then on the walls. On her many bookshelves... to the metallic mystery box.

--

Another long day of work. Another long day with any news from Booth. She felt like she hadn't seen him in weeks. Although it had only been three days.

That night, at home, she couldn't believe she was calling him again. And that he still wasn't picking up his cell nor his home phone.

--

She had to crack sooner or later. He was giving her one more day. If she didn't reach for him in any way, he'd allow himself to start thinking she really thought they only had sex.

Maybe a shower would clear his head. Then he would stop fantasizing about the idea of barging into her apartment, telling her the truth and making love to her like he should. He took his shirt off just as the phone rang. He knew it was her, calling again. He sat on his couch, next to the phone, closed his eyes and held on to his shirt not to give into the urge of picking up. Her voice resonated through the living room and went straight to his heart. She sounded so vulnerable...

"It's me. Again. It's the last time I call, I promise. Then I'll stop harassing you. Uhm..."

He knew she was fighting for her voice to stay steady. He bit his lips.

"I've called... what? Three times? Even though, according to you, I shouldn't be the one calling. Because you're the one who left. Remember you told me that in London? So, you know I listen to you. Sometimes. Uhm..."

He heard her sigh. _Aw man._

"Booth... I'm no good at this. You... You're the one who knows about this stuff."

_What stuff? Say it, you're so close, dammit!_

"I really... Would you just... Just give me a call. Ok? So you can tell me what I'm supposed to do. Because, honestly? I haven't got a clue. Booth? Come on! I know you're there!"

--

She hung up after leaving him a third message. And threw her wireless phone on the other couch. This was useless. She was about to give up. To really give up. When her eyes stumbled on it again. The box. She knew then. It was all there. All that she didn't quite understand completely. All of it. In the metallic mystery box.

But she was pissed as hell. He couldn't return _one_ phone call and she was supposed to just show it to him? She stuffed the box in her big messenger bag and slammed the door on her way out.

--

She knocked. She thought about using the key under the fake rock... but it wasn't there anymore. And she knocked again, angrier.

As soon as he pulled it open, she pushed him aside and entered without a word, without looking at him.

Wow. She was pissed! She was more than pissed! And she was... stunningly amazing. He tightened the towel around his waist. He had never been so nervous in his life. That was it. Wasn't it?

She paced around trying to remember where it was. There! She picked up the phone put it on her ear. She heard the tone. A perfectly well functioning tone. She slammed it down.

"Where's your cell phone?" she barked at him.

"Wh.."

"Your cell! Where is it?"

He pointed to the kitchen counter. She picked it up and did the same thing. His cell was working too. So how com hadn't he called her back?

"Thanks. Just wanted to check."

As fast as she had came it, she went to go out. But he stopped her, putting his dripping, naked body between her and the door.

"Wait! You're just gonna leave?"

"Oh, because _now_ you wanna talk to me?!"

Their eyes finally met. She suppressed the urge to slap him. He suppressed the urge to kiss her.

"Just so you know," she said, "I'm really upset with you."

He nodded, hiding a smirk.

"I can see that. Why are you upset? And don't tell me you don't know!" he warned her.

"Oh I know exactly why I'm upset!" she said, putting her bag on the couch. "You make me feel like a little girl. I'm not like that! I don't wait for guys to call!" She turned back to him. "Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to... to sleep with someone and then... just watch him leave like you did to me?! I'm sorry if I scared you with the tears..."

"Wait," he said, approaching her. "You said it was sweat."

She rolled her eyes and hit him on the chest.

"You know damn well eyes can't sweat! Come on! And you just leave me there? No explanations, no phone calls? It feels... shitty!"

He smiled. She wanted rip his face off. And his towel.

"So it worked," he said loud enough for her to hear.

She blinked.

"What worked?"

He continued smiling.

"You manipulated me?" she understood.

Her tone scared him a little. So he explained.

"You're here talking about it, aren't you? You're not avoiding the subject. If I hadn't left you, pushed you to think it through, you would have turned all clinical on me. You'd have said something about the biological alpha-mammal instinct crap..."

"There's no such thing as 'alpha-mammal instincts..." she needed to comment.

He ignored her and continued.

"... releasing pheromones or some other rubbish. You were about to shut me out, Temperance."

"Bones," she whispered.

"What?"

She looked him in the eye and shrugged.

"I'm..." _I'm your Bones. _

"Then you would have pretended it never happened. And I couldn't let you do that."

She sat on the couch and let him sat next to her.

"So..." she started. "You don't think it was just... sex?"

"No..." he whispered. He saw her shoulders drop a little. She was relieved. And she examined his face. "What about you?" he asked, holding his breath.

She took her bag. Booth stiffened. She wasn't going to leave now, was she? She sighed and took something out of her bag.

His eyes went from her to it t her again.

"Is this..."

"The metallic mystery box, yeah."

She saw his little boy look and smiled.

"What's in it?" he asked.

She looked at him, taking her time.

"It's... uhm... my secret Sweets wanted me to share with you. It's compiled evidence, I guess."

"Of what?" he questioned. "A case?" _Well, that's a bummer._

"It's some stuff I kept over time. I'm not always sure why. And I thought... maybe if you saw them, you'd understand... what I can't really explain."

He wasn't sure he understood. She handed him the box. She was scared shit. Her hands were trembling. She didn't want to look ridiculous. No one had ever seen the content of this box. He opened the lid.

The first thing he saw was a little figurine. He took it and smiled.

"Jasper," he said. He turned to her. She was nibbling on her bottom lip. To make her laugh, he said, "Good thing I didn't buy you a real pig. He wouldn't have fitted in the box."

She chuckled. And relaxed. So far so good.

"When you gave it to me, you had the most adorable face on. I call it the Parker-face. You looked just like him. You told me I was gonna be okay. And I was."

They smiled.

Then he picked up another figurine. Brainy smurf. He chuckled. He had felt like such an idiot giving this to her.

He set the two figurines on the coffee table and went for something else in the box. It was a picture. Of Parker and him. He recognized it. How did she...

"You can have it back," she said. "I'm sorry I stole it from you."

Her eyes were stuck on the picture, in his hands.

"I just... I didn't have any pictures of you and I saw it on your fridge one day and... I just snatched it."

He got up and went to his bedroom.

"I don't know why I did that! I'm sorry!" she yelled after him. She knew showing her this box wasn't a good idea.

He came back with his wallet and sat back down. She watched him, curious. He took out a piece of glassy paper and handed it to her.

It was a picture of her. She was laughing at something. She had never seen it before. She looked at him, wanting to ask where he had found this. But he was staring at her. And she blushed.

"I took it with my phone a year ago. And I printed it out."

She gave it back to him. He put it back in his wallet and handed her the picture of him and Parker.

"You keep it," he said, ready to see the next thing the box had to say.

He took out a flyer. A horse meat flyer. Lost, he frowned, not wanting to laugh.

"Why..."

"It's really stupid!" she said, taking the flyer from his hands and shoving it on the table.

"How's that related to the other _me_-stuff in the box?"

She closed her eyes. _Oh, God._

"I had taken it from the butcher, remember?"

"Yeah..."

"And I kept it because..."

"Because?" he pressed on, having no clue where she was going with this.

"Because it reminded me of crappy sex."

He laughed out loud.

"What?" he said, through laughter.

"And of... your speech. But really, it shouldn't be in the box. You can't throw it out."

"What speech?"

Oh, he knew exactly what speech.

"The one about... breaking the laws of physics and... trying... to become one with the other."

Their eyes locked. They both flashed back to her office. Brennan quickly looked away.

"I thought you had kept this," he said, "because you wanted to remember I had won that argument."

She laughed and watched him dig further into her soul. He took out a green leaf. She winced.

"Is that..."

"Mistletoe," she said.

"So... when you kiss your brother... You keep keepsakes?"

She laughed again and stole the leaf from him. She played with it while he looked for something else in the box. He found baby Andy's pacifier. That one was a little harder to explain.

She had loved playing family with Boot. But she couldn't say it out loud. There was such thing as too much information.

He smiled. "You were great with that baby."

She looked to see what was left in the box. She took the next thing out for him.

"Here. That's yours. You left it in my computer..."

_What..._ He unfolded the sheet of paper. And recognized his story.

"Aw man. I thought I had erased that!"

"It was really good. Really. I thought I'd put it in my next book," she smiled. "Except the part with my name, of course."

His head spun up.

"I didn't write your name."

"Oh yes you did." She pointed it to him.

It was his time to blush. She took this opportunity to take the box from his lap. But he stopped her.

"There's still stuff in it."

"Really?" she played dumb. She was well aware of what was left in the box.

He took out what looked like a bookmark. It was his eulogy. The silence was thick around them. Until Booth broke it.

"A little morbid, maybe? You kept this to look at it every time you feel like killing me?"

She stayed quiet. He looked at her. And she spoke up.

"I kept this to remind me... not to let you in any further. Because I wouldn't be able to cope next time you die on me."

She couldn't believe she had just said that. Sweets would be so happy.

"You know?" she said, attempting to brighten up the mood. "It would have been easier to just let you see me naked."

He held a smirk. And he watched her become bright red when it hit her that he _had_ seen her naked. They both laughed.

Booth took the last evidence. A sheet of paper that looked like the page of a book. She stopped him, putting a hand over his.

"This is... uhm... Ok. Just... Please remember as you read it that... I was buried alive when I wrote that."

Booth breath got stuck as he remembered that horrible day.

"I thought I was dying. And we were lacking in oxygen, too. So everything I say really doesn't count."

He smiled.

"If it doesn't count, why did you keep it?"

She stayed silent, took a deep breath and took her hand off of his.

She stared at him as he read. He'd know, after this. He'd know and she'd know.

Booth started reading, slowly, not to miss anything.

_Dear Booth,  
Read these words and believe in them: It's not your fault.  
Hodgins thought I should write things down, as I will never be able to say this.  
It's stupid and it doesn't serve any purpose, but I have nothing else to do.  
You are an amazing man, you know that? Strong, funny, intense and complicated, fascinating. I know you'll be fine.  
I guess I can admit it since I won't ever see you again... You are Andy in my books. There. I said it._

I'm almost glad I won't see you again. Because another two or three weeks of that charm smile of yours and I would probably fall in love with you. Not that I really believe in love. But I would.

_I miss you,  
Bones.  
_

When he looked at her, she was looking straight at him. Calm. Ready.

"So... That was a long time ago," he said, with a low voice. "Since then I gave you a lot of charm smiles," he said, putting one on.

She smiled and looked down at the box. Everything was out.

"Will you... request another partner now that I crossed that line?" she asked.

"It's not lime. It's lemon."

She smiled and chuckled.

"Does that mean we get to snog?" she wanted to know.

Booth raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah. Lots and lots of snogging."

He brought his hands to cup her face, brought his nose to hers. Their eyes met.

He stared into her shimmering blue eyes and she let him. She let him in. She let him see.

"I love you too," he whispered against her lips. He tasted her smile.

He had caught her in her fall. And he would never let her go.

--

THE END.  
Thanks for sticking with me until the end... Please let me know if you liked the ending. Endings are tough!


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